White Collar: Knock on Wood
by Phoenix-cry
Summary: A series of unusual suicides lead Peter and Neal into the world of the occult, and a scam. However a sudden turn in Neal's luck leave some believing in a true curse...as bad goes to worse they find a dangerous enemy where they least expect to find one.
1. Seven Years

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Prologue

"I hate this thing." Neal growled to himself.

It wasn't the fact that the anklet tracked his every move that was irritating Neal at the moment. It was the way it made it difficult to pull his sock up properly. There wasn't enough room to reached down through it to get to the sock and it was also too tight to push up his calf. Problem solving in the past he had devised a paperclip attached to a string that he fished through the anklet and clipped it onto the sock to thread it through.

Today however he was having more trouble with it than usual. With his leg propped up on a wooden foot rest Neal pulled at the string. When the trick didn't work he put a little more force into. The Armani sock suddenly gave way. Neal lost his balance and in an effort to regain it he stumbled back. There was a sharp cracking sound as Neal's elbow slammed into the full length mirror that was behind him. Looking over his shoulder Neal inspected the spider web pattern in the broken mirror.

"That's never a good way to start the day."

Huffing in frustration Neal took off the ruined pair of socks and hunted down a new pair. Managing to get this set properly pulled up he turned to his vast tie collection. Selecting a black silk tie with a red slash accent Neal slipped it around his neck and tied it with practiced ease. The broken mirror did little to help him know if the tie was straight or not.

Trusting his instincts with the tie he deemed himself acceptable for going out in public. Stepping out of the walk-in-closet Neal headed for the kitchen table. He was already late getting out of the house and Peter would be wondering where he was by now. Forgoing breakfast Neal picked up his house keys and hat. Glancing around the studio apartment Neal froze.

"What the..."

Neal blinked a few times to make sure he was actually seeing what he was looking at. There was an ebony black cat sitting on his bed. The cat stared at Neal with piercing green eyes. Startled by the unexpected house guest Neal just stared back at the animal. The cat was perfectly still except for a swishing tail.

"How did you get in here?"

The cat narrowed its eyes at Neal in an oddly disturbing fashion. The pair entered an accidental staring contest that the cat was clearly going to win. When there was a knock at the door Neal nearly jumped out of his skin. He couldn't be sure, but the cat suddenly looked smug.

"Neal?" June's voice came through the door.

"It's open, June."

"Neal, have you seen..." June stopped when she spotted the cat. "Ah, there you are, Sparkles."

"Sparkles?"

"It's my granddaughter's cat. I'm looking after her for the week. She must have snuck up here."

"Well at least this means I'm not hallucinating."

"No, not at all." June chuckled. "I'm sorry. You're not allergic to cats are you?"

"Deathly. I'll probably have to burn those sheets."

"Oh dear..."

"I'm just kidding. I don't mind the cat."

June smiled and went over to Sparkles. The midnight cat stood up and stretched out her back. June scratched between the cat's ears and she purred loudly. June apologized again for the cat and picked her up. The cat positioned herself so that she could look over June's shoulder. As June left Sparkles narrowed her emerald eyes at Neal again and hissed.

Perplexed by the cat's reaction to him Neal was left standing alone in his apartment. A crack of thunder was followed by the start of a sudden downpour outside. As Neal looked over at the rain lashing against the glass his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and cringed.

"Hi, Peter."

"Neal, where the hell are you? It's nearly nine, I want you here in five minutes."

"Peter, it's pouring down rain and you know I don't have a car."

"If you could get to work on time you would have missed the rain. You spend more time on your hair than I spend on my entire morning routine."

"And it shows." Neal muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Just get here, we have a new case."

"Right."

Neal flinched as Peter hung up the phone with a clatter. As he hung up his phone it beeped at him. Checking the phone he saw that the battery was close to dying. This day had not started well and it didn't seem to be getting any better. Sighing heavily Neal looked out of the large glass doors that lead to patio as the sky lit up with a flash of lightning.

"Maybe I should just go back to bed..."


	2. Out in the Rain

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter One: Out of the Rain

Peter looked up as Neal arrived. He looked about as happy as a wet cat, he kind of resembled one too. Soaked to the skin Neal went over to his desk and put the small waste bin up on it so that he could wring out his tie into it. He dragged his hands through his unruly hair in an attempt to tame it. Resisting any domestication Neal's black hair fell in a slightly curly tangle.

Neal did his best to keep his ultra suave composure, but he seemed a lot edgier than a little rain should make him. When he walked up to him Peter noticed that the shoulder on his blazer was torn at the seam.

"What happened to your jacket?" Peter asked.

"I missed the subway and while I was waiting for the next one a homeless guy thought I was Sammy Davids Junior and tried to take it to trade in for drugs."

"Wow, that's...very unlikely. Only in New York."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Well come on up to the briefing room, we've got a new case."

"Can I get changed into something dry first?"

"You keep another entire set of clothes here?"

"Of course."

"Right...of course." Peter shook his head sadly. "Fine, head down to the locker room, there's some towels there."

"Thanks."

"Just hurry up."

Neal nodded and went back over to his desk. He pulled a small duffel bag out of the bottom drawer and headed off to the elevator. Peter wandered over to the coffee for his fourth cup while he waited for Neal to get back. Fifteen minutes later Neal returned in a suit that held a few crease wrinkles in it, but at least it was dry.

"Feel better?" Peter asked.

"Not really."

"This case might cheer you up."

Peter headed up towards the conference room. Diana and Jones noted that the day was finally getting started and joined them. Diana looked the slightly ruffled Neal over and chuckled.

"Rough start to the day, Caffrey?" Diana mocked.

"I've had better days."

"Alright, children, settled down." Peter announced. "Yesterday business mogul Norman Richards committed suicide. Usually this wouldn't make it to my desk, however when investigators were looking into his financial records they found several unusually large withdrawals."

"To another account or cash?" Neal asked.

"Transfers to accounts. The accounts are quickly cleaned out and closed. We've traced each one back to different deceased individual."

"If you don't need the identity for long just cleaning up a dead person's ID can be a cheap and effective method." Neal pointed out. "I hear that a lot of Florida voters are technically dead."

"So are we thinking blackmail?" Diana asked.

"That's my first thought." Peter nodded. "However, the details have me thinking that this might actually be an extortion case. The victim has been acting strange for the past few months. After the suicide his business partner came forward and told us that Richards believed he was 'cursed'."

"Cursed?" Diana repeated doubtfully.

"Apparently our victim has always had an interest in the occult. His company's stock has plunged recently over a series of bad business decision that could also be viewed as 'bad luck' from a certain angle."

"Did he kill himself over the stock fall?" Jones asked.

"Unknown. All we know is that he had become increasingly reclusive according to his partner and the withdrawals became more frequent and for larger amounts near the end."

"Sounds like someone was squeezing him pretty hard." Neal said. "How much money in total?"

"Almost nine hundred thousand in two months."

"Ouch."

"He was worth more in non-liquid assets, but it put a serious dent in his hard cash flow."

"I bet." Neal agreed.

"What's most disturbing is that there was a similar death eight months ago. Another wealthy businessman, Alan Summers, was killed by a bus. In the finally report it was ruled that he stepped in front of it rather than was pushed. It was never decided if it was suicide or an accident. He also had several large withdrawals the months prior to his death. In his case no one looked too closely because he often bought odd high priced items. He had always been labeled 'eccentric'."

"Why is that the line between 'eccentric' and 'crazy' seems to be drawn by money?" Neal asked rhetorically.

"I don't know. That case was never solved. Now that we have another one I went back and took a closer look at Summers and found that some of the same dead men that received money from Richards also got paid by Summers. He also had a heavy involvement in the occult and there was one mention in the report where he'd told a friend that he thought he was 'cursed'."

"When you say 'the occult' do you mean a group in particular or just in general?" Neal asked.

"Just in general. They frequented fortune tellers, studied various astrologist, Summers even placed a 'psychic' on his pay roll for stock tips."

"So where do we start on this one?" Neal asked.

"How would you feel about having your palm read?"

"I'd feel ridiculous."

"Same here, but Summers and Richards had six fortune tellers in common."

"You think one of the fortune tellers put a curse on them?"

"No, but I think one of them had a way of making them believe that they did."

"Isn't fortune telling a class B misdemeanor in New York already?" Diana asked.

"It is if done for purposes other than amusement or exhibition." Peter confirmed.

"So any real 'fortune teller' that they were seeing probably won't have a public shop available to the public." Neal said.

"Good point, Neal." Peter mused. "But we need to start somewhere. We'll start with these six and see if they can lead us to a more 'powerful' seer. Posing as a wealthy business owner we'll make money no issue and lure out our extortionist by looking to get a curse lifted."

"I hear that can be expensive." Neal smiled. "If we make the mark irresistible the fortune teller will find us."

"Neal, have you been feeling unlucky lately?"

"You could say that."

"Then let's go find you some help..."


	3. Fortune Cookies

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Two

"I see your future, Peter, you end up murdered violently by your over worked, un-paid, under appreciated CI in a fit of passionate rage."

"Very funny, Neal."

"I'm serious, Peter, I can't take one more of these whacked out fortune tellers." Neal complained. "These places smell like my grandmother's attic. The fake accents are physically painful. I've been to Hungary, no one there speaks like that."

"There are only two more on the list and so far you haven't been able to get us a meeting with any real 'seers'. All of these people are coming up clean, so if this lead is going to work we need to get invited to a back door seance."

"Seances are for when you want to contact the dead, not remove curses."

"Whatever." Peter shrugged as he pulled the car into a street parking space. "Here we are, Madame Forella. Have fun."

Neal looked across the street at the psychic's store front. Like the others the window were dressed in a thick purple velvet curtain with a glaring neon sign proudly informing the public that they were open. So far the fortune tellers he'd been to had told him everything from 'you are about to come into unexpected riches' to 'avoid the Hudson river'.

"I'm telling you Peter, I might as well be at home cracking open fortune cookies. At least in that case you end up with a stale cookie to eat."

"Opening cookies isn't going to help us find an extortionist and possible murderer."

"Why aren't you checking any of these places out?"

"These people are con artists at heart, I figure you'd fit right in."

"They may be cons, but they are far from being artists." Neal huffed.

"What has put you in such a bad mood?" Peter asked seriously.

"I guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Clearly."

"Sorry."

"It's fine, we all have our bad days."

Neal forced a smile and got out of the car. He reached up to straighten his tie, but then had a better idea. Loosening the tie he undid the top button and then ruffled his hair, which had finally managed to dry. Taking a deep breath he put himself in the mindset of being in a panic. Considering how little he wanted to enter the fortune teller's shop it wasn't too difficult. His approach before wasn't working so it was time to try something new.

Hurrying across the street Neal pretended to be short of breath as he entered the dimly lit store. The front entrance was full of sage, incenses, crystals, and other paraphernalia for sale. In the back a middle aged woman in a renaissance dress sat at a velvet covered table. She had been playing a game of solitaire on a laptop. When she heard the little bell on the door jangle she had hastily closed the computer and hid it under the table.

She got to her feet and visibly slipped into her gypsy character. In a character of his own Neal made a big show of looking nervous and ready to bolt. He backed up into the door as it closed behind him and jolted in fright. The fortune teller gave him a distrustful look, but quickly recovered and smiled warmly.

"Velcome, yung man. 'ow can Madame Forella ease your fears?"

"Please help me." Neal begged.

"Of course, vhat do you need?" Forella asked. "Madame Forella ken sees into de meists of both present, past, und future."

"I...I don't need my future read." Neal stammered. "I...I...I'm cursed."

"Cursed?"

"Yes."

"Are you on drugs?" The woman asked dropping her accent.

"No, no, I swear. Please, you have to believe me. I need help, I can't live like this."

Neal rushed up to Forella causing her to take a few steps back. Not wanting to spook her too badly Neal stopped a few feet from her and dropped down onto his knees. Visibly shaking Neal panted for breath trying his best to appear on the edge of tears.

"I don't have anyone else to turn to, Madame Forella. Please."

"Listen, Kid, my name is Vicky. I'm not a rea..."

"Money isn't an issue." Neal interrupted.

Neal got back to his feet as he reached into his jacket. Vicky tensed and looked ready to run for the door herself until she saw the gold money clip that Neal brought out. He had a thousand dollars in cash along with six metallic colored credit cards. The money had come out of the F.B.I impound and the credit cards were fake, but they still had the desired effect on the fortune teller. He pulled five hundred dollars out of the clip and pressed it into her hands with a desperate pleading looking on his face.

"Please, please help me."

"I..." Vicky hesitated. "I may know someone...but she's not cheap."

Neal quickly handed over the rest of the cash Peter had given him. Vicky's eyes lit up and she tucked the healthy amount of money into her over exposed cleavage. Back in her gypsy persona she turned around dramatically and walked over to the mantle that held a small red lacquer box. Neal had noticed a similar box at two out of four of the other places he'd been to today.

Opening the box she took out a silver business card. Taking the business card Neal turned it over and read the embossed print. It was very simple, just a first name, an address in the warehouse district down by the river, and hours which happened to be from midnight to three am.

"'Josephine'." Neal read out loud.

"She is *very* exclusive, by appointment only."

"There's no number. How do I get an appointment?"

"She'll know you're coming..."


	4. Josephine

NOTE: I got the tarot card meanings off a website and found that a few cards lined up very well to both Neal and Peter. ;)

* * *

><p>White Collar: Knock on Wood<p>

Chapter Three: Josephine

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"Peter, you can't tell me you actually believe in all this stuff."

"Not at all, Neal. But I'm also not a big believer in coincidence either and at least two men are dead, and this 'Josephine' might be out killer."

"They were both suicides." Neal pointed out.

"Summers was never determined and we're still waiting on the report for Richards."

"In either case I don't think I'll be in much danger tonight."

"Maybe I should go in." Peter offered.

"She'll be expecting me. We don't want to spook her. I'll be fine, Peter, you've got my back."

"We can mount a response in three minutes." Jones confirmed.

"See?" Neal smiled. "Nothing to worry about."

"Alright, we'll be listening." Peter said. "If you need us before any kind of deal happens just say 'I think that's all for the night'."

"Got it."

"Be careful, Neal."

"Always."

Neal smiled brightly as he secured the transmitting watch around his wrist. He offered Peter his ankle and Peter removed the tracking anklet just in case. They had parked the van a few blocks away from the address on the card to keep from being spotted. The warehouse district was pretty much abandoned at this time of night and the large utility van stuck out. Neal stepped out into the night air and looked around. There wasn't another soul in sight.

Walking at a brisk pace he made his way towards the address he'd been given. He could hear the waves in the near by Hudson river lapping up against the docks in the distance. The way was mostly lit by the bare bulbs that were above the doors of the various warehouses.

It was just past midnight and the moon was high in the sky. Arriving at the address Neal studied the large hand painted eye that was decorating the door. Under the eye was a small note taped to the door. Neal took the note off the door and unfolded it.

"There's a note on the door." Neal said for Peter's benefit. "'Please come in, you are expected'."

Neal folded the note back up and placed it in his breast pocket. Having an open invitation he gripped the door knob and slowly opened the door. Neal wasn't sure what to expect when he stepped into the small warehouse, but the last thing he figured he'd encounter was a full grown male lion.

It took Neal a second to realize that the animal was a stuffed taxidermy standing guard just inside the door. Neal looked closer at the animals glass eyes that he could swear were staring right at him. A little disconcerted by the lion he took a step away. The warehouse was over flowing with oddities and antique furniture. Full suits of Medieval armor stood posed for action. Piles of old parchment lay in messy stacks between bronze statues of mythical creatures. Artwork, old chandeliers, full sets of china in large display chests, antique furniture, and items Neal couldn't even identify added to the general clutter.

"This place is amazing. There must be millions of dollars worth of antiques here." Neal whispered. "It looks like an episode of 'Hoarders' only with nice stuff."

Walking up to one painting in particular Neal studied it intently. He smiled as he recognized the work. Neal jolted when the lights suddenly snapped off. Instantly lost in the inky darkness he tried to recall the twists and turns through the alleyways of stuff he'd made to get to this point. A set of over head lights turned on that lit a path from where he was standing towards the back.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves Neal headed down the newly made path. Eventually he came to a set of stairs that lead up to a medium sized room that had been built to over look the warehouse. The red velvet curtains covered the large glass panels that made up the walls, but Neal could see candle light flickering between the curtains.

Reaching the top of the stairs Neal came to another door. Putting himself back into the shoes of the panicked businessman who believed he was cursed Neal slowly opened the door and stepped inside. The interior of the room was decorated in warm rich colors and had a feel of an opium den about it. Wrought iron stands held candles in all the corners that cast a flickering light.

The center of the room was dominated by a table with a black velvet floor length table cloth over it. In the middle of the table was a stand made of three silver snakes that held a crystal ball about the size of a healthy grapefruit. There were two chairs at the table, but no one was sitting there.

Looking past the table Neal finally spotted Josephine. She was younger than Neal expected. Lounging in a giant pile of velvet pillows she was wearing a complex black corset topped dress that billowed out at the hips in a mix of lace, silk, and gauzy material. Her skin was a deep mocha color and flawless. Josephine's face was framed by thick long black curly hair that added to her exotic beauty.

Josephine's white smile beamed from her dark face as she stared at Neal with penetrating green eyes. Unsure of what to do next Neal just stood in the middle of the room waiting for her to make the first move. Josephine was as still as a statue as she continued to study him. Neal decided that it was going to be up to him to break the ice.

"Hello, um...my name is Steven. I...uh..."

Josephine suddenly got up from her bed of pillows gracefully and walked over to Neal. She circled him a few times, running her fingertips over the front of his shirt as she passed by. Eventually she stopped in front of him and stared into his sapphire eyes with her emerald gaze. Neal found himself somewhat hypnotized, like a bird caught in a snake's stare.

"Your soul is not that of a 'Steven'." Josephine said suddenly. "Nicholas, perhaps 'Nick', suits you far better."

"Okay...I'll tell my parents they got it wrong."

"You don't have any parents." Josephine stated. "At lease none that you can contact. No brothers, no sisters...no serious lover at the moment. You're almost alone in this world, and yet I sense that someone out there knows where you are at all times."

Neal was a little taken aback by the accuracy of Josephine's words. He doubted that any of the fortune tellers he'd been to today could have lead her to know his real name for any research. He figured that if she knew he worked for the F.B.I she wouldn't even be talking to him. Neal wondered if there was something in his body language that helped her come to her conclusions about him.

"You doubt me." Josephine smiled.

"Not at all. In fact I'm hoping you can help me with a curse."

"Come. Sit."

Josephine offered Neal a seat at the table. Glancing around he noticed another door near the back that probably lead to an office. Playing along for now Neal sat down at the table. Josephine walked over to a shelf and brought back something wrapped in a piece of red velvet. Opening the velvet she revealed an old set of tarot cards.

"Shuffle the cards." Josephine ordered.

Neal reached out and took the cards and began to shuffle them. When he was done he placed them on the table. She instructed him to cut the deck and he did so. Josephine reached over and picked up the new top card and flipped it over for Neal.

The card had a drawing of a man hanging from the bough of a tree by one foot. The man had his hands bound behind his back, however his expression was not one of suffering. He looked peaceful and serene as he dangled from the height.

"This card is you." Josephine said quietly. "The Hanged Man."

"That doesn't sound good."

"This is a very misunderstood card. Some see it as the card of a Traitor, others as the sign of a Martyr. The simple truth is that the Hanged Man is a soul suspended between two worlds. He has a different perspective on things, what is right to him is seen as wrong to others. He may seem trapped by his ankle, but he has allowed himself to be hung willingly. He is waiting to be reborn, but such rebirth always comes with a sacrifice which he must be willing to make."

Neal was becoming more uncomfortably with Josephine. He subconsciously rubbed his left ankle with his foot where the anklet usually rested. Josephine reached out and flipped over another card. An older man dressed in red robes sat on a stone throne accented with golden ram's head statues. He had a scepter in one hand and a golden apple in the other.

"This card is the person closest to you." Josephine declared. "The Emperor. He is the 'All Father', giving guidance to all children to ensure that they become responsible adults. The Emperor is brave and straight forwards, however his downfall is that he can be controlling, demanding, and bound to the letter of the law."

"So I've noticed." Neal muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Josephine, this is all very enlightening, but the curse..."

"You have an impatiences that betrays you as a young soul." Josephine smiled. "So much to learn. Give me your hand."

Neal hesitated to give Josephine his hand. She chuckled demurely and reached out to gently take his wrist. Neal felt a chill down his back as she brushed his palm with her fingertips and traced the lines etched in his skin. She brought his hand to her dark cheek and pressed it against her warm skin while she stared into his eyes. She suddenly wrinkled her brow in an expression of pain.

"You lost someone, a woman, a lover." Josephine said with genuine sympathy. "You lost her to death, a violent and unexpected one."

Neal paled visibly. He didn't like talking about Kate with anyone, let alone a stranger who shouldn't know anything about what had happened. Trying to pull away he decided that he'd had enough. She tightened her grip on his wrist and continued to hold him captive with her unnatural green eyes. Neal's heart was starting to race painfully, he didn't think she had any special powers, but she certainly knew more about him than she should.

"I'm sorry if I have upset you." Josephine apologized.

"I...I thought palm reading was about the future."

"Your palm tells my your future, it is your eyes that tell me your past."

"Can you help me with the curse or not?"

Josephine studied Neal for a moment before removing his hand from her cheek. She gave the back of his hand a kiss and released him. Neal watched her expectantly. He had the feeling that they were both trying to con one another and they both knew it wasn't working. Josephine chuckled and shook her head.

"I can not help you. You are not cursed."

"That makes me feel better. What do I owe you for your time?"

"I do not charge for my services."

"In that case perhaps you'll allow me to buy something from your collection down stairs."

"The items are not for sale."

"I am very interested in the painting of the white duck, it is strikingly beautiful."

"I am sorry, it is not for sale." Josephine repeated.

"Aren't you worried that someone might steal from you? You have millions stored here."

"None would dare steal from Josephine."

"Alright. Thank you again. ...I think that's all for the night."

"Good night."

Neal had said the phrase to bring Peter and the others for a good reason. Now he just had to stall for a few minutes for them to get here. Getting to his feet slowly Neal admired the perfect sphere sitting on the snake stand on the table. After a few moments of contemplation he reached out to touch it.

"Is this real crystal? Most of the ones I've seen are glass."

"Don't touch that!"

Josephine grabbed Neal's wrist to stop him from touching the precious crystal ball. There had been true panic in her voice. Neal wondered what would be so special about the hunk of crystal that she would defend it so fiercely. He pulled away without touching it and she released him.

"I think you should leave." Josephine said coldly.

"I'm sorry to have intruded."

Before Neal could turn to leave Peter kicked in the door with his weapon drawn. Jones and Diana were close on his heels also ready to use deadly force. Neal raised his hands up peacefully and stepped to the side to give them a full view of Josephine to let them know that she wasn't armed.

"F.B.I." Peter barked. "Hands where I can see them."

"You are trespassing" Josephine snarled. "I have done nothing wrong."

"She has a point. Why did you call us up here?" Peter demanded.

"There is a very famous painting downstairs. Jean-Baptiste Oudry's 'The White Duck', stolen in 1990 and never recovered...until now."

"That will be enough to hold her for now and issue a warrant for the rest of this place. Jones, arrest her."

Josephine looked like she was about start lashing out at the Agents physically, but despite her anger she allowed Jones to cuff her hands behind her back as he started reading her her rights. Out of sheer curiosity Neal reached over and picked up the crystal ball. It was a lot heavier than Neal had thought it would be and cold to the touch.

"Wow, this is real crystal."

"Neal, put that down." Peter chastised. "That's evidence and you're getting your fingerprints all over it."

"Sorry."

Josephine looked over at Neal holding the crystal ball and she smiled mischievously. She shrieked to get everyone's attention, which worked well. Neal had started to put the ball down, but he froze at the horrendous sound.

"You are a traitor!" Josephine howled at Neal. "You came here without a curse, but I place one on you now!"

Josephine tore herself away from Jones for a second. He was able to catch her quickly, but she had moved in close enough to allow her to spit violently at Neal. Neal jerked back as her hot saliva struck his face.

"I curse you, Neal Caffrey!"

Neal put the crystal ball back in its place and reached up to wipe the saliva off his face. He felt a flash of dizziness and had to reach out and put his palm on the table to steady himself. Peter had Jones take Josephine away before walking up to Neal.

"You okay?" Peter asked.

"I'm fine."

"How did she know your full name?" Peter asked concerned.

"I don't know...she knew a lot more than she should have."

"Peter," Diana called out "check this out."

Peter and Neal went over to where Diana was holding the other door that Neal had noticed open. It was a large closet that had piles of cash on shelves along with a stack of file folders. Peter opened one of the files and found that it was the identity of one of the dead men that she had opened an account for to get money from Richards. There was a laptop in the closet, but it was password protected. Peter gave Diana instructions to get everything into evidence and to get the laptop to the lab.

"Looks like we got her." Peter smiled brightly.

Neal just nodded in reply. Suddenly a little warm Neal reached up and loosened his tie. Despite the fact that it was over Neal's heart was racing painfully. He shook his head to clear it and tried to put everything Josephine had said out of his mind. Neal didn't believe in curses, but he had to admit that he wasn't feeling very well all of a sudden.

"This was a fast case, maybe even a record time. I guess your luck has finally improved, Neal."

"Yeah...I guess so."


	5. The Hanged Man

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Four: The Hanged Man

Neal woke with a sharp gasp. It was hard to breathe, he felt like there was a heavy weight sitting on his chest. Opening his eyes he discovered a large black ball of fur laying on him. The amorphous blob of fur suddenly had two emerald green eyes. Sparkles saw that Neal was awake and hissed at him before running off.

"If you hate me so much, why are you sleeping on my chest?" Neal demanded of the cat. "How do you keep getting in here anyway?"

Sparkles trotted over to the door and began pacing back and forth as she meowed. Rolling his eyes Neal got out of bed. Getting to his feet he instantly lost his balance and landed on his hands and knees. While he took a moment to catch his breath Sparkles bounded over and rubbed her head under Neal's chin while she purred.

"Cats are so weird."

"Meow?"

"I'll let you out, but you need to stay out. Understand?"

"Meow?"

Neal shook his head sadly at the fact that he was talking to a cat. He carefully got back to his feet. He hadn't gotten to bed until three am, but it was still dark outside now so he couldn't have slept for more than a few hours. Going over to the door Neal opened it enough to allow the cat to slip out and back down stairs. Just as Neal was getting back into bed his phone started ringing. Furrowing his brow at the late night call he picked it up off the night stand and slid it open.

"Hello? ...Hello?"

When there was no sound, not even that of an empty open line Neal pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. There was no call. Searching the call log he saw the last call had been from Peter the previous morning. Neal could have sworn that he'd heard the phone ring. He dismissed it to not getting much sleep and crawled back in bed.

"Meow?"

Neal had just put his head on the pillow when he heard Sparkles again. Rather than get up again he grabbed his extra pillow and hid under it. He was almost back to sleep when there was a sudden clatter of breaking glass. With a rush of adrenaline Neal jumped up out of bed. Panting for breath he looked around frantically for an immediate threat. When nothing presented itself Neal guessed who was to blame.

"Damn it, Sparkles!" Neal growled.

Going over to the lights Neal turned them on to see what the cat had broken. Looking around the small studio apartment Neal couldn't find anything out of place. The cat wasn't around and nothing seemed broken. Confused he started to prowl the apartment looking for the source of the broken glass noise. Going into the walk in closet he found the mirror that he had shattered earlier had fallen out of its frame and was scattered across the floor.

"Just great."

Neal went to turn around but stopped when he could have sworn he saw movement in the broken shards of mirror. Glancing around there didn't seem to be anything or anyone else in the room. Carefully stepping closer Neal peered into the shattered glass. He backed away from the myriad of reflections of his own eyes that had stared back up at him.

With his heart pounding hard against his ribs Neal tried to calm himself. He wasn't use to having anxiety attacks and he didn't understand why he seemed to be having one now. Suddenly feeling nauseous Neal rushed into the adjoining bathroom and dropped down in front of the toilet as he was violently sick. When he was done he sat back on his heels and pulled a towel down off the rack.

Burying his face in the towel Neal concentrated on taking a few deep breaths to settle himself. His shoulders were aching from the muscles being pulled tight from stress. Although after having thrown up he did feel a lot better. Exhausted Neal tried to find the strength to go back to bed. The sixth sense that told him when someone was near suddenly prickled his skin.

"Meow?"

"Leave me alone!" Neal barked.

By the time Neal stood up the cat was nowhere to be found. Neal was just grateful to have it gone. Fighting another bought of nauseating dizziness Neal slunk back into bed. Pulling the covers over his head he fell into a restless sleep.

Hours of battling against nightmares later Neal's phone started to ring. Untangling himself from the sheets Neal made sure to check the caller before answering this time. A streak of black motion in the corner of his vision startled him. He scanned the room for the cat, but he didn't see anything now. The phone continued to ring irritatingly.

"What?" Neal answered.

"Neal?" Peter asked in surprise.

"Yeah." Neal replied wearily. "What's happening?"

"Well here at the office we're getting work done. Josephine is definitely our extortionist, but we can't figure out how she ran her scam or why her marks ended up dead. She not talking."

"You push someone far enough and they'll start pushing back."

"You think she had them killed because they were trying to get out of her scam?"

"They may have been threatening to expose her."

"Makes sense."

"Peter," Neal said pathetically "can I have the day off? I'm not feeling well."

"We can handle things around here without you. Do you need me to get you anything?"

"No. I'll be fine. I just didn't sleep well."

"Okay, get some rest."

Neal reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose against a massive headache. He felt like he'd been hung upside down like the man on the tarot card that Josephine had shown him.

"Peter...what's your star sign?" Neal asked suddenly.

"My what?"

"Star sign, horoscope."

"Aries."

"The ram?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason." Neal shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Feel better."

"Thanks."

Neal hung up the phone and fell back into bed. Staring up at the ceiling he recalled the details of the Emperor card that Josephine had told him represented Peter. The throne that the man had been sitting on had been decorated by golden ram heads. As for the Hanged Man Neal had to admit that he felt stuck between the world he used to live in and new one Peter was showing him. Closing his eyes Neal felt like the room was spinning slowly.

"It's just a coincidence."


	6. The Emperor

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Five: The Emperor

"Damn it." Peter growled.

"What's wrong, Boss?" Diana asked.

"We can get this Josephine Hanes on identity fraud, and the painting, but we don't have enough for the stronger extortion charges, and we have absolutely nothing to connect her to the murders."

"Uh...I have bad news and bad news..."

"Now what?" Peter sighed.

"Neal is off his game."

"What?"

"The painting is a forgery," Diana said "and she has paperwork that states that she bought it as a 'replica'."

"Damn it. Neal really didn't have a good chance to look at it. What's the other bad news?"

"I had my friend from Violent Crimes go over all the evidence from both cases. He says that the bus accident could go either way, but Richards shot himself. There is no question on that one, he says it's suicide."

"Something about it just doesn't seem right." Peter insisted.

"Maybe she cursed them into doing it." Diana shrugged.

"Yeah, right." Peter huffed.

"You said Neal wasn't feeling well today?"

"He just didn't get much sleep. He's fine."

"She cursed Neal."

"Don't tell me you believe in that stuff?"

"All that stuff she said about the Hanged Man and the Emperor...you gotta admit it fits you and Neal pretty well."

"Diana..."

"Plus she seemed to know about Kate."

"Anyone can look at Neal and know he's lost someone." Peter countered. "Even on his best days you can still see the pain of Kate's death in his eyes."

"Yeah." Diana agreed sadly. "Still...how did she know his name?"

"I don't know. Have the lab boys been able to break into her computer yet?"

"No. And she has surrounded herself with a legion of lawyers." Diana growled in frustration. "Speaking of which we can only hold her until the bail is set, and we both know she'll be able to pay it."

"How long do we have?"

"Probably only till the end of the day."

"She's going to disappear." Peter sighed.

"I don't think we'll get a judge to rate her as a high flight risk."

"Probably not." Peter agreed. "Go hassle the lab geeks, I want into that computer before she posts bail."

"Got it."

Diana left to put some pressure on the lab techs as if that was going to make them be able to work any harder. Sitting at his desk Peter started combing through the stack of evidence that came along with this case. The set of photographs from the stuff in the warehouse was as thick as a dictionary. He started leaving through them one by one in hopes of finding something even if he wasn't sure what it was.

Finding it difficult to concentrate Peter put the photos down and rubbed his eyes. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Neal had sounded on the edge of panic on the phone when he'd first answered. Neal's sudden curiosity in his astrological sign didn't sit will with Peter either. After a few minutes of indecision Peter pulled out his cell phone.

"Haversham." Mozzie answered.

"Mozzie?"

"Yes, Suit?"

"Can you..." Peter hesitated. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Depends." Mozzie said warily.

"I just want you to go over to Neal's place and check on him for me."

"What's wrong?"

"He's just not feeling well. I'm sure it's nothing, but I'd feel better if someone looked in on him."

"You can be such a Mother Hen." Mozzie chuckled.

"Can you do it or not?"

"Sure thing."

"Thanks."

"But you owe me one." Mozzie added seriously.

"Put it on my tab."


	7. The Fool

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Six: The Fool

"Now that's just rude." Neal complained.

Getting a late start to the day Neal had put a bowl of cereal on his kitchen table. After pouring some milk into it he'd turned to place the milk container back in the refrigerator. Turning back he discovered Sparkles up on the kitchen table happily lapping the milk out of the cereal.

"That's disgusting, Cat. You use your tongue as toilet paper and now you're dipping it in my breakfast?"

Sparkles didn't pay any attention to Neal's complains or commentary on her feline habits. Neal walked over and put his hands on Sparkles to pick her up. Never stopping drinking the milk Sparkles gave Neal a deep warning growl. Neal let go of the cat.

"Fine, keep it. I don't want it anymore anyway."

Continuing to enjoy the milk Sparkles ignored Neal. Sighing heavily Neal went over to the box of cereal and ate a few dry handfuls straight from the box. Breakfast didn't really settle well on Neal's stomach. Setting the box down he wandered out onto the patio for some fresh air.

Although he usually sat at the small table outside this time he went over to short wall that acted as a railing around the high patio. Resting his crossed arms on the top of the stone wall Neal looked over the city. Neal continued to stare out at the city with unfocused eyes as his mind raced. He rubbed at his anklet with his foot.

"Peter's never going to let me go." Neal suddenly muttered to himself. "Even when my sentence is up, he'll watch me like a hawk, and it's not like I can just go out and get an honest job..."

Increasingly agitated Neal's heart started racing painfully once more. Despite the cool morning air his skin was beginning to bead with sweat. With his thoughts still stumbling over each other Neal gripped the wall and hauled himself up onto the ledge. Sitting on the edge of the building he looked down at the sidewalk far below.

"I need to face facts, Peter is never going to trust me." Neal continued babbling quietly. "One day it is going to come down to me or him. I have to get away from him...but I don't have anywhere to go."

Leaning further over the dangerous height Neal silently contemplated what the rush of free fall might be like. He didn't think much about the painful stop at the end, if anything he figured that it would solve his problems. Closing his eyes he bunched his muscles up to leap from the deadly height.

"Neal, please don't..."

"Kate?"

Neal opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder back towards the apartment. He could have sworn he'd heard Kate's voice. When he didn't see anyone he turned back to his view of the city. Suddenly realizing what a precarious position he was in Neal scrambled down off the wall and back onto the safety of the patio.

"What the hell am I doing?"

Neal rushed back inside and started a search for his cell phone so that he could call Peter. Unable to find the phone he picked up the jacket he'd worn to Josephine's. Going through the pockets he didn't find his phone, but he did come across a deep blue card with gold trim. Flipping the card over he stared at the man hanging upside down from his ankle that was printed on it. It was the Hanged Man card that Josephine had attributed to him.

"She must have slipped it in my pocket while I wasn't paying attention."

Feeling a little more grounded Neal gave up on looking for his phone. He tossed the tarot card onto his kitchen table where Sparkles was almost done with the milk. Noticing that he was sweating Neal stepped into the bathroom and into the shower. The cold shower water helped wake him up and cleared his thoughts.

"Neal?"

Neal jerked at hearing someone calling his name. He closed his eyes and hoped that the sound would just go away.

"Neal?"

"Stop it!" Neal cried as he clamped his palms down over his ears.

"Neal, you in the shower?"

"Mozzie?" Neal asked hesitantly.

"Yeah." Mozzie responded from the far side of the bathroom door.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your door was unlocked so I invited myself in. Neal, there is broken mirror everywhere out here. That's bad luck you know."

"So I've been told."

"You finish your shower, I'll clean up the glass."

"Thanks."

Neal didn't stay in the shower long. He wanted to get out quickly to go make sure that Mozzie really was in his apartment. Wrapping a towel around his waist he opened the bathroom door just enough to peer out. Sure enough Mozzie was in the adjoining walk in closet with a dust pan cleaning the shards of mirror off the floor.

"Thanks, Mozz."

"No problem."

Neal stepped carefully past the glass that still remained and grabbed a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt. He retreated into the bathroom once more and got dressed. Uninterested in messing with his hair he just combed it back and let it do whatever it wanted. When he came back out into the main room Mozzie was petting Sparkles who was still on the kitchen table. Purring loudly Sparkles weaved and rubbed against Mozzie's hand.

"I didn't know you liked cats." Mozzie said.

"I don't. It's not my cat, it belongs to June's granddaughter. I can't seem to keep it out of the apartment."

"Cats are naturally attracted to people who are indifferent towards them."

"Clearly. Mozzie, what are you doing here?"

"Peter asked me to drop by."

"Peter?" Neal repeated suspiciously. "Now he has you spying on me?"

"I'm not spying for the Suit." Mozzie said defensively. "He said you weren't feeling well, he's worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"You don't really look 'fine'. You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet."

"I didn't get much sleep last night."

"I can tell. Hey, what's this?" Mozzie picked up the tarot card on the table. "Ah, the Hanged Man. You know this card kinda reminds me of you."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately." Neal sighed.

"I've always identified the most with the Fool."

"The Fool?"

"The Fool doesn't know where he's going or what he's going to do, but that's doesn't matter because the important thing is to enjoy the moment and the journey. He's open to all possibilities and doesn't take the most trodden path."

"Sounds about right." Neal agreed. He looked around the small apartment. "I need to get out of here, do you want to go for a walk?"

"Sure." Mozzie shrugged.

Neal picked his house keys up and headed for the door. He slipped on a pair of shoes. Opening the door he noticed that Mozzie wasn't following.

"Are you coming?"

"You're going out like that?" Mozzie asked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's been years since I've seen you step out without a tie and jacket, or at the very least a silk vest and hat."

"It's my day off."

"Yeah, but you still never go 'casual' these days. You're not even wearing socks, and although your hair would work well for the a wind blown model on the cover of a romance novel, it's not your usual style."

"Do you want me to change?" Neal sighed.

"No. I was just making an observation."

"Thank you for your commentary on my appearance, but I don't think I need to take fashion advice from a man wearing all synthetic fibers."

"Laugh all you want, this shirt never stains."

Neal managed a smile and Mozzie brightened as well. Sparkles jumped down off the table and bolted out the open door and back over to June's side of the house. Mozzie and Neal headed down the stairs as well and out into the midmorning sunshine. It really was a beautiful day and Neal felt better being outside. He walked towards his favorite park that was only a few blocks away.

"Neal, slow down." Mozzie complained. "For every step you take I have to take two."

"Sorry."

Neal made a conscious effort to slow down so that Mozzie could easily keep pace. Mozzie started rambling about some new hacker that was terrorizing government web sites and uploading porn onto CIA servers. Neal listened to the story without comment as they walked through the well planted park. As they neared the fountain in the middle of the park a high pitched beeping stopped Neal in his tracks and forced him to take a step back.

"Damn it, Peter." Neal snarled angrily.

"Neal?" Mozzie asked in concern as he turned around. "What's wrong?"

"Peter's tightened my leash. I've always been able to walk through this park before."

"Why can't you now?"

"My anklet went off, it's a warning that tells me I'm at the end of my range."

"I don't hear anything."

"That's because I backed up."

"Neal, we're barely half a mile from Junes." Mozzie pointed out.

"That just proves Peter doesn't trust me."

"Step forward again."

Neal hesitated to comply with Mozzie's request. He hated the sound the anklet made, it drew unwanted attention to him and reminded him that he was still a ward of the state. Mozzie encouraged Neal to step forward with a hand gesture. Hanging his shoulders in defeat Neal walked up to Mozzie. The anklet remained silent.

"I could have sworn I heard it." Neal said.

"Neal, is there something you're not telling me?"

"It's nothing, I'm just a little stressed. Peter and I were up late working on a case."

"What case?"

"Nothing. Just an extortionist."

"What kind of extortionist?" Mozzie pressed.

"She was..." Neal hesitated to tell Mozzie the truth. "She was fortune teller."

"A gypsy?" Mozzie asked in alarm.

"She's just a scam artist, Mozzie."

"Don't be so sure."

"Mozzie..."

"You didn't mess with her crystal ball did you?"

"Maybe." Neal admitted.

"We need to get you and your apartment cleansed. I know just the thing."

"Mozzie, don't be ridiculous."

"Neal, don't you get it? You've been cursed."

"No I haven't. There is no such thing."

"Until 1916 Westerners didn't believe that Panda Bears existed either." Mozzie pointed out.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If black and white bears that eat wood exist...anything is possible."


	8. Smoke and Mirrors

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Seven: Smoke and Mirrors

"Peter?" Diana asked as she stepped into Peter's office.

"Let me guess, Josephine just posted bail."

"Yup."

"Damn." Peter growled. "I guess we'll just have to hope that our luck holds and that she doesn't disappear."

"Knock on wood, eh?"

"My desk is particle board, I don't know if that counts. It only has a picture of wood on it."

Diana chuckled and even Peter managed a smile. When Peter's cell phone started ringing Diana excused herself. Peter looked at the caller ID before answering.

"Neal, feeling any better?"

"Peter..."

"Why are you whispering?"

"Peter, I need your help...now." Neal hissed in a harsh whisper. "I'm at my place, hurry."

"I'm on my way." Peter said as he got to his feet.

"Bring your gun."

"What?"

It was too late, Neal had hung up on him. Peter could have sworn he'd heard some sort of singing in the background. Opening his drawer Peter pulled out his weapon and secured it in his shoulder harness. Grabbing his car keys he informed Jones that he was leaving and hastily made his way to the elevator.

When Peter arrived at Neal's he heard the chanting once more from the foot of the stairs. Getting to the top of the stairs he noticed smoke coming out from under the door. Alarmed Peter drew his weapon and threw open the door. With his gun aimed at chest height he stepped into the apartment with authority.

"Everyone freeze right now!" Peter ordered. "What the..."

Peter lowered his weapon slightly as he took in the scene. All of Neal's furniture had been pushed aside to form a clearing in the middle of the room. Mozzie along with three young women in white dressed that Peter didn't recognize were standing around holding golden bowls. The one in Mozzie's hands was giving off a thick white smoke.

Neal was sitting cross legged on floor in the middle of a circle of burning candles. Stripped to the waist he wore a wreath of leaves on his head and a necklace consisting of a large crystal and what looked like a dead bird's foot around his neck. Neal looked up at Peter with pleading fearful expression.

'Save me!' Neal mouthed silently.

"Mozzie, what the hell is going on here?" Peter demanded as he holstered his weapon.

"What does it look like? We're preforming a cleansing."

"You three." Peter pointed to the women. "Get out."

The women glanced at one another before hastily leaving. Neal took the opportunity to rip off the leaf crown and yank off the necklace. He jumped to his feet and stepped out of the circle to go retrieve his shirt that was on the floor in the corner under a sleeping black cat. When Neal tried to get his shirt from the animal it hissed at him. Rather than deal with the cat he retreated into his walk in closet.

Narrowing his eyes at Mozzie Peter stepped up to him menacingly. Mozzie forced an uneasy smile, but he held his ground. Peter stared Mozzie down, silently demanding an explanation.

"What?" Mozzie asked innocently. "You asked me to check on Neal."

"Yes, 'check on him', not 'involve him in witchcraft'."

"It's not witchcraft."

"What are you burning?"

"White Sage." Mozzie replied. "Perfect for cleaning the spirit."

"Go home, Mozzie."

"Neal's been cursed."

"No he hasn't. There are no such things as curses."

Mozzie took a breath to say something.

"No." Peter interrupted. "I don't want to hear it. Just go."

Mozzie thought about protesting, but the look in Peter's dark eyes left no room for argument. Putting the burning bowl of sage on the floor Mozzie left. Peter extinguished all of the candles that were dripping wax onto June's hardwood floors. He picked up the golden bowl and took it to the sink and filled it with water to stop the smoke. When he turned around Neal had returned having put on a plan v-neck shirt.

"Thank you, Peter. I didn't know what to do. I tried to stop him, but you know how Mozzie gets."

"Unfortunately I do."

"He means well."

"What makes him think you've been cursed?"

"I told him about Josephine."

"So?"

"Mozzie and I were out for a walk and I thought I heard my anklet warning me that I was stepping out of my range. It was just my imagination. Kind of like Phantom Cellphone."

"Phantom cellphone?"

"When you think you either hear your phone or feel it vibrate, but there's no call."

"I've had that happen a few times." Peter admitted. "You don't think you're cursed...do you?"

"No, of course not."

"Good."

"What happened with Josephine?"

"She posted bail and we had to cut her free." Peter sighed. "She'll have a court date for the identity fraud in a month, but with the high priced lawyers she has she'll probably just end up with a fine."

"What about the White Duck?"

"Neal, the painting was a replica."

"No..."

"Everything in her warehouse is legal. We can't get her on extortion because we don't have any proof of how she ran her scam. If we can't prove that she used force or fear we don't have a case."

"I guess we can't win them all." Neal said.

"No, we ca..." Peter was interrupted with a violent sneeze. He just had a chance to catch his breath when he sneezed again.

"Peter?"

"I'm allergic to cats. Why is there a cat in here?"

"Her name is Sparkles, she belongs to June's granddaughter. June is caring for the cat for the week, but Sparkles has decided that she likes my corner of the house best."

"Great. Well, if you're doing okay I think I'll go before I go into anaphylactic shock."

"I'm just fine." Neal assured. "I don't believe in curses."

"So you're feeling better?"

"I really am." Neal smiled genuinely. "I think I'll be doing even better when I clear the sage smoke out of here. I'm going to have to get everything thing I own dry cleaned."

"Good luck. I'll see you tomorrow."

Neal followed Peter to the door and thanked him once more before he left. Leaving the door open he chased Sparkles out of his apartment once more. He still didn't know how the cat was getting in. Going over to the patio doors he opened them wide and allowed the late afternoon breeze to blow in.

Neal spent an hour cleaning up the wax that Mozzie's candles had dripped on the hardwood floor. He put all his furniture back in order and looked around. It felt good to have everything back in its place. As the sun set Neal wandered out onto the patio and watched the Chrysler Building light up.

"I hate to admit it, Mozzie," Neal said to himself "but I do feel better since the 'cleansing'."

It had been hours since Neal had heard any voices that weren't there. He was still a little nauseous, but it seemed to be fading. After some time on the patio Neal went back inside and tried to muster up the enthusiasm to make something for dinner.

A yellow manila envelope on the floor by his door caught Neal's attention. It didn't surprise him to find the letter there. June often slipped his mail under the door. Curious Neal walked over and picked it up. He was a little concerned when he saw that there was no return address. Seeing that there was no stamp he realized that it must have been hand delivered to the house. However, he had a lot of friends that left messages in nontraditional ways.

"Probably a lucky charm from Mozzie."

Neal opened the letter and found a deep blue card with gold trim inside. His skin instantly crawled when he looked at it. There was writing done in a silver pen on the tarot card. Refusing to be intimidated Neal pulled the card out of the envelope. He briefly noticing that it felt greasy. Holding the card in his hand Neal felt his cheeks flushing and his pulse start to rise. Annoyed that he could be spooked by something as simple as a card he ignored the odd reaction.

"'We never finished our tarot reading.'." Neal read the message scribbled on the card. "'This card is for you.'."

Feeling increasingly anxious Neal furrowed his brow and flipped the card over. A skeleton in a full suit of armor riding a white horse stared up at him from the card. Under the horse's hooves were the bodies of the dead and dying, including a slain king, a young woman, and a peasant child. The skeletal horseman was holding a black flag with a white flower emblazoned on it. Neal's attention was brought to the bold words naming the tarot card at the bottom.

"'DEATH'."


	9. Life imitating Art

Note from the Phoenix: Please forgive me for my liberties with the Queensboro Bridge, I've never actually stepped foot on it before. I've been to New York City once, I was ten, I recall there being lots of noise, lights, and really tall things...

* * *

><p>White Collar: Knock on Wood<p>

Chapter Eight: Life Imitating Art

"Hey, Honey." Elizabeth greeted Peter with a kiss. "How was your day?"

"Really weird." Peter grumbled.

"What happened?"

"Mozzie."

"Ah, say no more." Elizabeth chuckled.

Peter appreciated not having to explain everything to Elizabeth right now. She knew he'd get to the story eventually. Elizabeth looked her husband over critically.

"I take it you had to let the fortune teller go." Elizabeth said.

"How did you know?"

"You've got that irritated 'I had to let someone go that I know is guilty' look on your face."

"I have a look for that?"

"You have a look for everything, you just have to know how to read it."

"And you read me like a book." Peter smiled.

"Yes I do."

Elizabeth grabbed a hold of Peter's tie and pulled him in for another kiss. Peter returned the affection as he wrapped his arms around her. Elizabeth suddenly pulled away.

"Why do you smell like smoke?"

"Why do you think?"

"Mozzie?"

"Mozzie."

"Go take a shower and change."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Care for some company?" Elizabeth offered.

"Yes I would."

Elizabeth smiled mischievously and captured Peter's tie once more to lead him off to the shower. An hour after the first shower the amours couple found themselves in need a second one. Deciding on having Chinese delivered Peter and Elizabeth settled down in the living room for the evening. It was just getting dark when Peter's cell phone rang.

"Burke here."

"Agent Burke, this is EMC."

"The company that monitors Neal's anklet?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm calling to inform you that 675419, Neal Caffrey, has just stepped out of his radius."

"Where is he headed?"

"Towards the East River, the speed suggests he is driving."

"Damn it."

"Should I alert the US Marshals?"

"No. I can handle this."

Peter hung up the phone and and called Neal's phone to see what was happening. The phone rang until it went to voice mail. Hanging up again Peter opened the app on his cell phone that gave him live updates on the GPS in Neal's anklet.

"Hon?"

"It's Neal, he went out of his radius." Peter got to his feet. "I have to go."

"What do you think he's doing?"

"I don't know, he hasn't been acting right lately."

"Be careful."

"I will."

Peter hurried into the bedroom and replaced his pajama pants with a pair of slacks. He slipped his shoulder harness over his cotton t-shirt and slipped his badge into his back pocket. Elizabeth had his car keys waiting for him and handed them over. Opening the small drawer on the sideboard Peter grabbed another set of keys that included the magnetic key for Neal's anklet on it. In the car Peter took off towards Neal location.

"What the hell are you doing, Neal?"

Peter didn't understand why Neal would leave his radius with the anklet still on. The tracking device made a terrible noise when it detected that it was out of it's range unless Peter placed it on the roaming setting. No taxi cab driver would go anywhere with the anklet making a racket. Looking down at his phone Peter watched the speed of travel on the GPS increase dramatically.

"That can't be good."

Using the bluetooth in his car Peter called Neal's cell several more times. Each time the phone rang to voice mail. Peter called Mozzie to see if he had something to do with this.

"Dante." Mozzie answered.

"Mozzie, are you with Neal?"

"No."

"Did you give him a car?"

"What would he do with a car?" Mozzie asked rather than answered.

"Answer me!" Peter snarled.

"No, no, I didn't get Neal a car. What's going on?"

"I don't know. Neal's driving towards the 59th street bridge."

"Queensboro bridge? Why?"

"If I knew that I wouldn't be talking to yo..."

Peter stopped when he saw that the GPS had gone from forty miles per hour to zero in the span of a heartbeat. Hanging up on Mozzie Peter stepped on the gas and sped towards the final destination on the tracker. It was impossible to tell if the car Neal had been in had simply suddenly stopped or slammed into something.

Turing onto 59th street Peter quickly spotted the red and blue flashing lights of police cars. The traffic on the Queensboro bridge was ground to a halt. Peter flicked on the emergency lights on his own vehicle that the F.B.I had installed to try and get through. He was able to get within a few hundred feet of the commotion, but from there it was complete grid lock.

Abandoning his car Peter ran through the stopped cars on foot. The center of the traffic snarl was about a thousand feet across the three thousand foot bridge on the upper deck. Getting closer Peter saw a blue car that had been plowed into the divider in the center of the multi-lane bridge.

The bridge had been under renovations since 1987 and this section of the bridge was closed off to both pedestrians and West bound traffic while a large portion of the rail wall was replaced. That had not stopped the on lookers from crowding the dangerous work zone. Peter suddenly heard Neal's voice rise up above the general din. He jolted as Neal screamed at the top of his lungs in a shriek of pure terror.

"Let me go!" Neal cried in panic.

"Neal?"

"Peter? Peter!"

Forcing his way through the crowd that had gathered Peter reached the clearing by the edge of the bridge that two cops were trying to maintain. Peter flashed his badge to break through the line. Two other cops were doing their best to control Neal. Blood ran down Neal's face from a gash over his eye. His once white shirt was stained with blood and dirt from the filthy bridge.

They had managed to get Neal's hands cuffed behind his back, but the couldn't keep a grip on him as he twisted and tore himself away from them. Near the edge of the bridge that currently only had a set orange cones for a railing the cops were doing their best to make sure that Neal didn't go over the edge or push one of them over either.

The piercing beeping of Neal's anklet added to the general chaos. With his cell phone still in hand Peter slammed his password into the open application that set the anklet to roam so that it would stop making noise. Neal fought like a cornered lion to free himself from the police officers that were still trying to take him into custody. Unable to force Neal to the ground one of the cop pulled out his taser.

"No!" Peter barked. "Stop!"

"Peter!" Neal wailed.

"I'm here." Peter assured as ran up to put himself between Neal and the officers. "Back off, this is my partner."

Falling to his knees Neal instantly stopped fighting. He gasped for breath with his eyes weld shut as he coward behind Peter.

"Listen, Pal..."

"Special Agent Peter Burke, F.B.I." Peter corrected the cop sternly.

"Agent Burke, this kid stole a car, and after crashing it he tried to throw himself off the bridge. He's screaming, ranting about cats, he has a tracking anklet going off, we're only doing our jo..."

"Officer," Peter interrupted "please, I'll deal with him. Just turn off these lights and get these people out of here."

After a moment of hesitation the cop nodded, his partner shut off the squad car lights, and then they went to help the other two handle the crowd. Peter turned around and knelt down in front of his terrified friend. Neal's eyes darted back and forth as he uselessly tried to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and shook his head a few times, but every time he opened his eyes his panic just intensified. He was cutting into his skin from tugging at the hand cuffs, but Peter wanted to make sure Neal was responsive before having them removed.

"Neal...talk to me. What happened?"

Neal didn't answer he looked right past Peter with unfocused eyes that were red from the tears that were still streaking down his dirty blood stained face. Trying to get his attention Peter reached up and carded his hand into Neal's sweat drenched hair. Snapped out of his daze Neal looked at Peter with a brief flash of recognition and relief.

Peter gave Neal a reassuring smile. Rather than a genuine smile of his own Neal just mimicked Peter's expression. In the background the cops were managing to get everyone back in their cars. Neal began to relax slightly until he spotted something over Peter's shoulder. Neal's eyes widened in horror as he tried to back away, already on his knees he just jerked back and sat down hard. Peter glanced over his shoulder, but didn't see anything different than before.

"Neal..."

"She's here...she's here..." Neal chanted as he desperately sought an escape. "She's here..."

"Easy, calm dow..."

"Stay away from me!"

With a dexterity and speed that Peter had no chance of match Neal scrambled back and got to his feet. Staring at nothing in pure terror Neal began trembling violently. Peter very slowly got to his feet and held his hands up in a placating manner. Yanking at the cuffs that were keeping his arms pinned Neal started to back away, getting closer to the construction at the edge of the bridge.

"Neal, stop, just come back towards me..."

Neal wasn't listening. He took one step back too far as he tripped over a tangled of ropes left on the bridge by the workers. Peter lunged forward but wasn't able to reach Neal in time. With a piercing cry Neal fell backwards and over the edge of the bridge.

"Neal!"

Peter rushed to the edge of the bridge nearly going over himself. With his heart in his throat Peter looked over the side of the bridge. The rope that Neal had tripped over had ensnared his leg and had kept him from falling to the waters far below. Having struck his head on one of the bridge trusses after the fall he was either knocked out cold or killed, Peter couldn't tell which. For a moment everything was deathly still.

With his hands bound behind his back suspended by his entangled ankle Neal was a terrifying mimic of the card Josephine had assigned him.


	10. The Tower

Note from the Phoenix: I was pleasantly surprised to see how much you readers out there enjoy crazy Neal. So I stayed up late to get the next chapter done just for you guys.

For anyone interested in what the title of this chapter means, the Tower card is a card of war, a card where what one thinks is true is proven false, a card that shows the shattering of beliefs...or so I'm told by Wikipedia.

* * *

><p>White Collar: Knock on Wood<p>

Chapter Ten: The Tower

Peter paced back and forth in a small conference room. With Neal's erratic behavior he had been taken directly to a specialty hospital that deal with traumatic brain injuries and psychiatric disorders. It had taken a carefully planned crew of police and fire fighters over an hour to safely bring Neal back up onto the bridge. Peter had scarcely been able to breathe as they worked. One wrong move and the rope caught around Neal's ankle could have easily slipped.

At the time it had been difficult for anyone to know if they were attempting a rescue, or a body recovery. It wasn't until Neal was back on the bridge that they were able to confirm that he was still breathing. He had remained unconscious all the way to the hospital. Now Peter was waiting for word on his condition.

"Agent Burke?" Dr. Sandeen asked as he stepped into the conference room.

"Yes."

"Mr. Caffrey has regained consciousness. He was lucky, he did not strike his head on the bridge. The lapse of consciousness was most likely stress induced. Other than some abrasions to the wrists and ankle, and a cut above his eye his physical condition is good."

"Why do I get the feeling that there is bad news coming?"

"Agent Burke, what medication is Mr. Caffrey on for his schizophrenia?"

"Schizophrenia?"

"I have a request in for his medical records, but they take time to be released." Dr. Sandeen explained. "I'd be able to help him a lot faster if you knew his medication list."

"Neal's not on any medications, he doesn't have schizophrenia."

"I strongly disagree. He displays classic symptoms: disorganized thoughts, unusual speech, anxiety, paranoid beliefs, and hallucinations both auditory and visual."

"He was fine yesterday."

"We tested him for illegal drugs and he's clean. About twenty-five percent of schizophrenia suffers can develop sudden on-set psychosis."

"No." Peter shook his head in disbelief. "This doesn't make any sense."

"In any case, Agent Burke, Mr. Caffrey is clearly having a psychotic episode. Since he is incapable of making any decisions for himself I need to know if you have legal authority to make health decision for him."

"I do."

"I need your permission to start treating him with Haldol."

"That's strong stuff."

"He needs strong intervention."

"Can I see him first?"

"If he becomes violent..."

"I take full responsibility." Peter said quickly. "Please."

Dr. Sandeen hesitated, but eventually he nodded. Peter followed the doctor down the long hallways. The came to a nursing station that had a several monitors set up on it. Peter was brought around the desk as the doctor brought a video feed up.

Despite having seen Neal's behavior on the bridge Peter still stared at the screen in shock. Neal was sitting in the corner of a barren room with his knees pulled up to his chest. They had bandaged up his abrasions, stitched up the cut over his eye, and dressed him in a pair of white scrubs that blended in perfectly with the walls and floor. With his palms pressed hard against his ears and his eyes firmly shut Neal rocked back and forth in his new found madness.

"I..I didn't realize that anyone actually used padded rooms in the real world."

"We use physical restraints as a last resort. " The doctor explained. "This gives him as much freedom as possible while keeping him from hurting himself."

"Let me talk to him."

"He won't understand, he probably won't even recognize you at this point."

"I have to try."

Once again the doctor went against his better judgment and agreed. After taking Peter's gun and shoes he lead Peter down to Neal's room. Looking through the small window in the door the doctor unlocked it and stepped to the side. Peter hesitated before entering himself.

"We'll be right outside." Dr. Sandeen said.

"Thank you."

The door closed and locked behind Peter with a ominous click. At first Neal didn't pay any attention to him. Continuing to rock he cried out a few times before suddenly relaxing. Peter took a few steps closer and Neal looked up at him. Neal inspected his visitor suspiciously.

"Peter?" Neal asked warily. "Is that you?"

"That's right."

"And who is that?"

Neal made a motion with his head to indicate someone behind Peter. Figuring that the doctor was looking in through the window Peter looked back. The window was a one way tinted and Peter couldn't see anyone through it. Neal kept his eyes fixed on a point just behind Peter.

"Neal, no one else is here."

"He has white hair, he's watching me. I...I don't like..." Neal stopped and just looked away. "Never mind, he's gone."

Neal leaned his head back and rested it against the wall. His shoulders jerked a few times as though he'd been startled by something, but he remained peaceful. Peter risked moving in closer and sitting down on the floor in front of Neal. Neal reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"Did I...did I steal a car?"

"You did."

"I'm sorry." Neal brought his eyes level with Peter's. "I remember doing it, but I don't remember why."

"What else do you reme..."

"Do you hear that?" Neal interrupted. "I keep hearing Kate, but I know she's dead."

"Neal..."

"Why won't she leave me alone?" Neal asked suddenly on the edge of tears. "You know I would have saved her if I could."

"I know that." Peter said gently. "Neal I need you to focus for me. I need to know what happened to you between when I left and when you stole the car."

"Damn it, Sparkles, get the hell out of here!" Neal shouted at the imaginary cat.

"Look at me, Neal. Focus. What happened?"

"I...I..." Neal narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. "I was falling."

"Before that."

"I don't know." Neal whispered. "I can't think over all this noise. Why is it so noisy in here?"

Neal hugged his knees tighter to his chest. He closed his eyes with an expression of pain. Peter gave him a moment to collect himself. Neal rubbed at his ankle with his foot and gasped sharply. Looking down at his legs he grabbed a hold of his bare ankle. Suddenly looking distressed he started hyperventilating.

"Where is it?" Neal asked as he started to cast about for the missing anklet.

"Don't worry about the anklet."

"No, no...no, I can't be without it. It keeps me safe." Neal replied anxiously. "I'll get lost. I have to find it. I don't want to be lost."

"Neal..."

Peter stopped as Neal got on his hands and knees and started searching the floor for the device. Neal was quickly becoming frantic as he scanned his immediate area uselessly. Peter watched him in shock for a moment before putting his hand on Neal's shoulder to try and distract him from the search.

"I have to find it!" Neal cried in panic as he jerked away from Peter's touch. "I don't know where I am...I'm lost, please help me find it..."

The pleading tone in Neal's voice was heart breaking. Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out the small magnetic key before pulling up his pant leg and revealing that he was wearing the anklet himself. He had ridden in the ambulance with Neal and the EMT had asked him to remove it so that they could do an MRI when they reached the hospital. With nowhere safe to leave the expensive device Peter had decided to just wear it.

Peter removed the anklet and offered it to Neal. Neal's face lit up as he smiled brightly and took the offering. He secured the tracker around his ankle. Peter was surprised by how it seemed to relax him. Sitting down again with his back to the wall in the corner Neal looked past Peter at the far wall. A wry smile slipped across Neal's lips.

"I love that painting..." Neal said wistfully as he stared at the blank wall. "Probably why I stole it in the first place. Unfortunately I have to sell it...that F.B.I Agent is getting too close. Agent Burke...he's ruining my life."

Peter stared at Neal, trying to determine if he was serious or not. Part of him expected Neal to laugh and tell Peter he was joking about all of this. However, Neal's expression didn't change. He had gone from sheer panic to tranquil in a matter of seconds. Peter wanted to help, but there didn't seem to be anyway to get through to Neal. He was locked in a world of his own.

"Neal, do you recognize me?" Peter asked.

"Of course." Neal said as he brought his attention back to Peter.

"Who am I?"

"You're the Emperor."

"No, enough of this tarot card nonsense. Neal, it's Peter."

Neal gave Peter a confused look before losing interest in his guest. Peter wasn't sure what to do as Neal started to become agitated again. He looked around the barren room and clearly saw something more than Peter did. Bring his hands back up over his ears again Neal weld his eyes shut and forced his back harder into the corner.

"What do you want?" Neal cried desperately. "Be quiet! Leave me alone!"

"Neal, look at me. There isn't anyone else here."

"Please stop," Neal whimpered "I can't help you...I can't..."

Unable to stand by and watch Neal spiral into panic again Peter reached out and put his hand on Neal's shoulder. Neal jerked back with a yelp. Peter withdrew his hand quickly, but it was too late. Neal had been set off and suddenly had a murderous glint in his eyes that Peter had never seen before.

Quick as a striking snake Neal threw himself at Peter and drove him back to the floor. Neal straddled Peter, pinning him to the floor. He drew his fist back to strike him, however the hospital orderlies were already in the room and grabbed his wrist in time. Snarling with his eyes locked on Peter Neal fought bitterly against the men keeping him from his prey.

"Let me go!" Neal demanded.

The two strong men who had entered just in time hauled Neal off Peter. Lifting Neal off the floor the men tried to control him as he kicked and thrashed. Roaring in frustration and rage Neal strained to get at Peter. Peter got to his feet and backed away. Unable to calm him the men slammed Neal against the soft wall to pin him down.

"I'll kill you, Keller!" Neal screamed passionately as he tried once more to lung at Peter. "I will kill you with my bare hands! You bastard!"

Stunned by the violent turn in events Peter just watched as Dr. Sandeen came in with a hypodermic needle. Trapped against the wall by the orderlies Neal's blood lust turned to terror when he caught sight of the needle. Neal fought to twist out of the men's grasp. When he failed he threw his head back against the wall.

"No! No! Peter, help me! Peter!"

When Peter made no move to stop the doctor tears streaked down Neal's face at the betrayal. He cried out in terror as Sandeen sunk the injection into his arm. The sedative worked quickly to bring Neal down as he visibly relaxed. Gently lowered to the floor Neal laid on his side breathing heavily. He kept his eyes open, but they were completely unfocused.

Peter didn't want to leave, but Sandeen silently insisted and escorted him out. Outside the room Peter took a moment to catch his own breath. Sandeen told him something, but he wasn't listening. Asking to be left alone for a while Peter sat down in the hall and leaned his back against the door of Neal's room.

Exhausted from everything that had happened Peter spent a while sitting on the floor trying to collect his thoughts. He was grateful that the doctor was understanding enough to leave him alone. When he heard footsteps approaching he expected to see Sandeen. However looking up Peter scrambled to his feet when he saw who his visitor was.

"Marshal Garret? What are you doing here?"

"What do you think? I'm here to take Caffrey back into state custody."

"What? No. He needs medical attention."

"And he'll get it, just not here."

"Wait...how did this get set up so fast?"

"The Department of Justice tends to sit up and take notice when one of its wards steals a car, involves himself in a high speed chase, crashes into a historical bridge, and then tries to throw two cops and then himself off said bridge."

"None of that is his fault. Something has happened to him."

"He's not your problem any more, Agent Burke."

"Give him a chance here before you move him to some cut-rate prison ward. I need some time to figure out what's happened."

"This place isn't exactly covered under his health insurance. He's already cost the taxpayers enough with that stunt on the bridge."

Peter tried not to think of how many hundred of thousands of dollars worth of damage and rescue costs Neal had incurred in the short period of time. He looked at the set of cuffs with the belt chain that the Marshal was carrying. Peter could visualize all too well what Neal's reaction to such restraints would be in his current condition.

"Please, Marshal, give me forty-eight hours."

Peter knew he had absolutely no authority in this situation to keep Neal from being transferred to a state facility. On the other side of the coin the Marshal didn't really have the authority to grant Peter more time. The Marshal looked through the small window and down on where Neal was curled up on the floor. He sighed heavily and turned back to Peter.

"I'll give you twenty-four hours, Agent."


	11. Breaking and Entering

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Eleven: Breaking and Entering

"I guess the party started here."

Peter had let himself into Neal's apartment early the next morning and was looking around at the destruction. After the night on the bridge and in the hospital he'd been forced to go home a get a few hours sleep. He'd been up at dawn and went directly to June's to try and piece together what happened in the few hours that Neal had been alone.

The apartment had been torn apart. It was difficult to tell if someone had ransacked it looking for something or if it had been Neal ripping the place apart in his psychosis. June had been out with friends during the events and so she couldn't offer any details. Since Peter didn't know what Neal owned or kept hidden he didn't know if anything was missing. Feathers from a destroyed pillow floated around the room like a snow storm.

"Meooooow!"

Peter jumped at the sound of the distressed cat. He had instinctively drawn his weapon and aimed in the direction of the sound. The cat cried again from inside the antique trunk that was against the far wall. Peter holstered his gun and walked over to the closed trunk. He opened the leather trunk and Sparkles jumped out. She darted across the room to hide under the bed.

"You've been nothing but bad luck for Neal, Sparkles."

Sparkles hissed at Peter from her spot under the bed.

Ignoring the cat that was already causing his eyes to water from allergies Peter continued to inspect Neal's trashed apartment. There was a canvas on the floor face down by the kitchen table. Peter carefully peeled it off the floor. The paint was still wet and it had stuck to the floor. He turned it over and looked at it.

"Yikes...that's just frightening."

The half ruined painting was of Josephine lounging in her mountain of pillows. Her green eyes pierced through the viewer. The painting was a lot choppier than Neal's usual work, it looked rushed and rough, but Peter could still see who it was meant to be. He put the painting down, leaning against the table. There were several broken bottles of red wine on the table that had stained the wood.

"What could have happened to you to make you do this, Neal?" Peter asked the devastating scene.

Going through the walk in closet Peter found all of Neal's clothing on the floor in a messy heap. All the drawers had been pulled open and rummaged through. Peter noticed that the rod that held Neal's suits was snapped clean in half. Going over to the broken rod Peter picked up a silk tie off the floor that had been tied into a traditional noose.

"Did you try to hang yourself from this?"

Dropping the tie Peter moved into the bathroom. The bathroom mirror was shattered in a spider web pattern that looked like Neal had thrown his fist into it. The floor was soaked and the sink was half full of water. Looking at the water sloshed over the sink and onto the floor Peter had a chilling thought.

"Another suicide attempt...or murder."

Growing increasingly concerned Peter still didn't have any answers. He looked around the bathroom for more signs of a struggle. He was trying to determine if someone else had been here forcing Neal under the water or trying to string him up in the closet to make a murder look like suicide. There was so much destruction that Peter's thoughts leaned towards an intruder. However, Peter would have to wait until forensics could get here and look for prints or other evidence to truly know.

"Neal?" Mozzie's voice called through the apartment.

"Mozzie."

"Peter?"

Peter came out and joined Mozzie in the main room. Mozzie was looking around at the destruction in horror. Peter had never called him back after hanging up on him.

"Where's Neal?"

"He's safe." Peter answered evasively.

"He's the one the papers are talking about, isn't he?" Mozzie demanded.

"I haven't seen the paper today."

"They don't have much in the way of details, but it says 'someone' tried to jump from the Queensboro bridge after crashing a car and ended up tangled up in some ropes."

"He didn't jump, he fell."

"Like this?"

Mozzie handed Peter a red card. He flipped it over and looked at the image of a man with his hands bound hanging from a tree by his ankle. Peter was annoyed by the way the image sent a chill down his spine. Refusing to be drawn into any of this supernatural stuff Peter handed the card back.

"Mozzie, there is a rational explanation for all of this."

"Yeah, duh, a witch has put a hex on Neal!"

"Don't be absurd."

"Where is Neal now? I want to see him."

"He's still recovering. I will call you when he can have visitors."

"Peter..."

"Mozzie, I know this is difficult for you, but please just let me handle this. Go home."

"Fine." Mozzie huffed.

Peter knew that Mozzie was not about to just go home and that he'd probably spend the rest of the day trying to find someone to lift Neal's curse. At least he wouldn't be under foot. Peter looked around one last time before going to leave himself. An odd black stain on the cabinet above the kitchen sink caught his eye.

Walking over to the sink Peter discovered that Neal had set fire to something it in. There was a pile of charred ashes. Taking a kitchen knife Peter flicked through the ashes. He narrowed his eyes as he came across the edge of a blue card lined with gold. Peter remembered the tarot cards in Josephine's den had been blue with gold.

"I'll never get a warrant with a scrap of burnt card." Peter muttered to himself.

Despite knowing he couldn't go after Josephine legally Peter felt that he now had proof that she was somehow involved in Neal's unexpected decent into madness. Peter sifted through the rest of the ashes and found another scrap that had a bold 'D' and part of what looked like an 'E' printed on it. Peter pulled out his smartphone and looked up a website on tarot cards.

"Devil and Death are the only two with 'de'. A harmless card wouldn't ruin Neal's hold on reality though."

Peter knew there was really only one way he was going to get any answers. He was going to have to talk to Josephine, if she hadn't already skipped town. As a last minute thought Peter opened Neal's silverware drawer. Under the silverware organizer was a slim black leather pouch. It was a lock pick set that Neal thought Peter didn't know about. Peter tucked the lock pick set into the breast pocket of his jacket.

Driving over to the warehouse district Peter parked his car a few blocks from Josephine's. It was early morning on a Saturday and the area was mostly empty. Peter knew that he shouldn't be going to talk to a potentially dangerous woman alone, but he also had plans to break into her place if she wasn't there and he didn't want to involve anyone from his team in the blatant criminal activity. Coming to the door with the eye painted on it Peter hesitated.

"This is a bad idea..."

Going for the legal option first Peter knocked. He did not identify himself as F.B.I since he wasn't technically on the job. Peter waited a few minutes before knocking again. When she still did not answer Peter looked around to make sure no one was watching. Kneeling down in front of the door to get eye level with the lock Peter noticed something odd on the underside of the door knob.

"So that's how she knew Neal." Peter muttered to himself.

There was a small fingerprint scanner inset to the handle of the door so that it was flush with the rest of the metal. With the right software she would have had access to Neal's criminal record. Peter was willing that a lot of her customers were in the fingerprint database for one reason or another. The fact that she was most likely hacking Federal software and databases was better grounds for a warrant, however Peter didn't have the time to go through the proper channels at the moment.

Mozzie had taught Peter to pick a lock, but he hadn't used the skill in a while and he found it more difficult than he remembered. Eventually the lock gave way. Peter tucked the lock pick set away and drew out his gun and a small flashlight. He remember Neal telling him that at one point the lights had gone out and the warehouse was pitch dark. There were no windows so the fact that it was day wouldn't help.

Peter opened the door cautiously. Looking inside he came eye to eye with the lion taxidermy. Although he'd seen it before it still creeped him out a little. Stepping inside he closed the door behind him. The lights were on so Peter put the flashlight away. He made his way through the mass of antiques and what looked like plain old junk to him.

With his gun still drawn Peter climbed the stairs that lead to Josephine's observation room. The door at the top of the stairs had been left open. Approaching carefully Peter made a full sweep of the room, the closet, and the small bedroom/bathroom that was attached to it. Josephine wasn't there. Worse yet the bedroom had clearly been packed up.

The cash had been confiscated, but when they couldn't prove that it had been earned illegally it had been returned. Josephine was smart, she didn't just horde the antiques, she bought and sold them, keeping detailed records. She paid taxes on all of the money she 'earned'. The cash was gone now.

Sighing heavily Peter holstered his weapon. The table with the black velvet cloth was still in the room. Stepping up to the table Peter thought that it was odd that she had left her crystal ball on the snake stand behind. Tucked under one of the snakes was a deep blue card with gold trim. The card also had something scrawled across it in silver writing.

The writing was upside down and mostly covered by the snake stand. Not wanting to taint the scene Peter got out his handkerchief that he used to handle evidence when he didn't have gloves with him. Now that she had run as soon as her court date came and went they'd be able to put out a warrant for her arrest. Peter carefully grabbed the card between his index finger and thumb and pulled it out to read it.

"'You can't save him, Agent Burke. You can't save him anymore than you can save yourself.'"

The hair on the back of Peter's neck prickled as he read the card. When he felt his heart rate rising he dropped the card back down on the table. The card fell image side up revealing a 'Judgement' tarot card. Peter's cheeks suddenly felt flushed as a wave of nausea washed over him. Confused Peter inspected the white handkerchief he'd picked the card up with. There were two oily stains where he'd been holding the card.

"Son of a bitch...the damn thing is drugged."

Dropping the handkerchief Peter rushed into the bathroom and washed his hands under cold water. Whatever was on the card was powerful. Just the slight contact had sent his body into a 'fight or flight' reaction. Peter was still feeling sick to his stomach, but the other symptoms were going away slowly.

"I would have ended up in Neal's condition if I'd held that card with my bare hands for more than a few seconds." Peter reasoned to himself. "I hope it can be reversed."

Peter went back out to the room with the crystal ball and the deadly tarot card that Josephine had left as a trap. Taking out his flashlight Peter reflected it off the crystal ball. The surface had an oily sheen to it just like the card. Peter recalled Neal holding the crystal and falling ill the next day.

"Something not as strong on this thing. Get the customer to touch it and he starts thinking he's cursed. Once the mark starts to go dry slip them something more powerful and drive them to suicide. ...it's a terrifyingly good scam."

Peter looked into the bedroom closet and found a plastic grocery bag and a shirt that Josephine had left behind. He very carefully collected the card and the crystal ball in the shirt and slipped them into the plastic bag. Tying it closed he placed it in the large side pocket of his jacket.

Feeling that there was nothing more he could do here Peter went to leave. When he stepped out the door to the stairs he felt a wire press against his lower leg. Peter tried to step back, but it was too late the delicate trip wire snapped nosily with a violent spark. The lights disappeared and plunged Peter into pitch dark.

Bringing out his flashlight Peter inspected where the trip wire had been. There was a small motor with a chain on the door frame where the wire had been attached. Looking closer at the floor Peter pressed his foot into the carpeting and heard a very faint click. He hadn't set off the wire when he'd entered the room because it had been down until he triggered the switch that brought it up into position. Peter's blood flashed to ice as his senses suddenly picked up on a threat.

"Is that smoke..."

Just as Peter said the words the the small fires that had been automatically lit along the walls caught onto an accelerant and jumped to life. Peter watched in horror as the flames quickly spread to the junk that cluttered the warehouse. Snapping out of his momentary trance he raced down the stairs as the fire drew closer. A few steps from the bottom his nausea escalated to dizziness once more and he tripped.

Crashing to the floor at the bottom of the stairs Peter struggled to get to his hands and knees. He took in a lungful of acrid smoke and instantly threw up on the floor. Blinded by the smoke and the now raging fire Peter quickly became disoriented. Unsure of the right direction Peter looked for any clear path through the burning antiques.

Scrambling between a large set of ornate dresser drawers Peter tried to continue in a straight line. He needed to reach one of the walls before he could even begin to find the door. He knew if he always took the path of least resistance he'd end up going in circles until he was trapped in the middle.

Peter paused at the huge oil painting that was blocking his path. The frame hadn't caught on fire, but the reactive oil paint had a blue glaze of flame over the surface of the canvas. There was no easy way around the painting and the fire was starting to gain a life of its own around him. Shielding his eyes Peter crashed through the burning painting. The painting had been resting against a low coffee table that Peter fell on and broke as he tripped over it.

Untangling himself from the broken table Peter cried out in pain as the flame from the painting licked against his calf. Getting back to his feet Peter quickly brushed off the fire that was trying to wick up his pant leg. Finding a pathway through the collection Peter rushed closer towards the wall. The air inside the closed warehouse was quickly becoming too hot to breath.

With his eyes watering from the smoke and his lung choking on the hot air Peter started wondering if he should be using his last reserve of energy to call Elizabeth and tell her he loved her one last time rather than waste it seeking a door he'd probably never find. Still following the straight path Peter pulled out his cell phone. As he worked to find the speed dial he tripped and ended up on his hands and knees. The phone clattered across the floor away from him, but Peter could hear what direction it had gone in.

Unable to breathe the air more than a few feet off the ground Peter crawled under what he thought was a table towards the phone. The air near the floor wasn't pleasant, but it was a few degrees cooler and somewhat smoke free. Peter had given up any thoughts on finding the door, reaching the phone to call Elizabeth was his only goal at this point.

Peter found the phone and when he went to pick it up a cold breeze brushed his hand. Looking up he found himself right at the door. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the 'table' he had crawled under was actually the stuffed lion. Shoving the phone into his pocket Peter jumped to his feet and grabbed a hold of the door handle. Peter cried out and jerked his hand away as the hot metal seared his palm.

The door wasn't just over heated from the fire, he had also learned that it had locked behind him. He tried to use part of his jacket to shield himself from the heat as he tried to unlock the door, but the slippery cloth didn't give him any purchase to turn the handle. Coughing and gasping for each painful breath Peter desperately threw his shoulder against the locked door. After the third try he decided the door was too solid to be broken down.

"What the hell am I doing?" Peter snarled at himself.

Backing away from the door Peter drew out his gun. Aiming at the door knob he placed himself at an angle to the door and fired until the weapon clicked on an empty cartridge. Throwing his shoulder into the door it easily came free now that the handle had been shot off. Peter stumbled out into the bright sunlight followed by a billow of black smoke.

Peter only made it a few yards from the burning building before collapsing. Laying on the ground for a moment the fresh air filled his lungs and gave him enough strength to sit up. Looking up at the building he watched the smoke rise towards the sky, in the background he could hear a distant fire engine screaming its way to the scene, they would not have made it to the warehouse in time to help him.

Peter knew that if he had been hallucinating while trying to escape the fire trap there was no way he would have made it out. He still had the card and the crystal ball safely in his pocket. The side of his face was turning a bright red from the heat damage and his hand reminded him painfully that he probably had a second degree burn, but he was alive. Laying on his back Peter pulled out his cell phone and completed the call he'd been trying to make.

"Peter?"

"Hey, Hon...I love you."

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked anxiously. "You sound out of breath."

"I'm fine, thanks to you."

"Me?"

"I would never have found my way without you."


	12. Daymare

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twelve: Daymare

Gripping the cold metal edge of the large medical sink Neal doubled over and retched violently. There was nothing left in his stomach, but now that he had started he couldn't stop gagging. He coughed and sputtered against the bile that was burning the back of his throat. Someone was rubbing between his shoulder blades and trying to tell him something in a soothing voice, but he couldn't understand what they were saying.

"This is more than just psychosis," a deep voice said "this is starting to look like a reaction to a toxin."

"What should we do next?" The nurse asked.

"Get some more blood, rerun liver enzymes and tox-screen. I can't treat this if I don't know what it is. I'm going to get Dr. Anders over here, she might have a better idea. Keep him comfortable, no more sedation he clearly isn't reacting well to it."

Neal agreed fully with the doctor's last statement as he leaned into the sink and went into another fit of dry heaving. When his stomach settled again the nurse offered him a small plastic cup with water in it. Finding it difficult to speak Neal just gratefully took the offering. Bringing the cup towards his lips Neal jerked back as the water suddenly turned to blood.

"It's not real." Neal growled to himself as he tried to gather the courage to drink the blood. "I...I can't drink this."

"It's just water, Neal." Sandeen said softly.

"It looks and smells like blood." Neal said as he tried to quell his revolting stomach.

"Can you understand me?"

"Yes. The other voices come and go, they are quieter right now...but it won't last."

"Neal, this is very important: did you take any drugs recently or were you in a situation where someone might have drugged something you ate or drank?"

"I don't remember..."

Desperately thirsty Neal weld his eyes shut and tried to knock back the water. It was cold, but it tasted metallic. The instant it hit his stomach it came right back up. Leaning his full weight on the large metal sink Neal bowed his head in exhaustion. He peacefully allowed the medical team to lead him across the room to an exam table where he laid down. The nurse skillfully drew a vial of blood for more testing. Doctor Sandeen came up and looked down on Neal with sympathy.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble." Neal said seriously.

"You've been doing very well considering all you're going through, Mr. Caffrey." Sandeen smiled. "We are going to do everything we can for you. You're safe here."

"Thank yo..."

Neal jerked violently when he heard gun fire in the hallway. Trying to block out the sound he curled up on his side. Sandeen saw the change in his patient's eyes and motioned for the strong orderlies. Even though he knew it was useless Neal covered his ears to block out the imaginary fire fight that was raging in his mind. He was managing to keep a grip on reality until he heard a piercing scream. Neal sat bolt upright causing the orderlies to pounce on him.

"Peter?"

"Neal!" Peter's voice cried out in pain. "Help me!"

"Peter!"

Lost in the delusion Neal bit down hard on the arm that was holding him back. Twisting free Neal jumped down off the exam table and bolted for the door to search for his injured partner. He could still hear Peter calling for help between cries of pain. The chaos was punctuated by the sharp crack of gun fire.

Neal made it into the hallway before he was tackled from behind. He kicked at his attackers, but they were able to pin him down. As they dragged him back towards his room Neal caught sight of the gory blood that stained the floor and splattered the walls. Frantic in the belief that the blood was Peter's he screamed incoherently as he battled the men trying to calm him.

"Help him! Please! He's going to bleed to death!" Neal insisted. "Let me go, I have to help him!"

"Neal," Sandeen said calmly "your partner is not in danger."

"The blood..."

"It's all in your mind. There is no blood."

"You're doing this to me!" Neal snarled as his fear turned to paranoid anger. "What do you want from me? Sick bastards just torturing me for fun!"

"There's no point trying to talk him out of his delusions." Sandeen said to the orderlies. "Just secure him in his room, if he becomes a danger to himself use restraints. I'm going to go call Anders, get me at once if he starts vomiting again."

"You can't do this to me!" Neal spat.

Neal struggled for freedom every step of the way. He screamed in frustration when he couldn't stop them from taking him further from the source of the gun fire. Neal's rage turned back to fear when they opened the door to the room they'd been holding him in. The walls dripped in blood and the floor seemed to pitch up and down like a ship in a storm.

"Wait..."

The orderlies didn't pay any attention to Neal. They forced him into the room where he quickly lost his balance and fell to the rolling floor. Neal tried to back out of the slaughter house room, but they had already closed the door. Unable to stand without a feeling of extreme vertigo Neal crawled over to the far corner and sat down with his knees hugged to his chest. He glanced around at the blood before burying his face in his crossed arms and starting to cry.

"Wake up, Caffrey." He whispered to himself. "I want to go home."

"Neal..." A soft female voice called.

"No, no, Kate, please leave me alone." Neal curled up tighter. "I'd rather deal with the blood."

"Neal, look at me."

Neal shook his head like a stubborn child and remained hidden in his crossed arms. He shivered when he felt her running her fingers through his hair. It was a lot easier to ignore the hallucinations when they didn't reach out and touch him. The sensation was so real that Neal lost his resolve and looked up.

Kate was knelt down in front of him with a bright smile painted on her beautiful face. Neal reached out hesitantly and touched her cheek. She felt real, her skin was warm and soft. She traced her hand down the side of his face. Neal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In the back of his mind he knew this wasn't real, but he didn't care. Relaxing Neal kept his eyes closed and just enjoyed her touch.

"I'm sorry." Neal said softly.

"It wasn't your fault." Kate assured him.

"I want you to know that I didn't chose Peter over you."

"What?"

"I was just having a hard time saying good bye to him. I had every intention of getting on that plane."

"I know." Kate smiled sadly.

"I shouldn't have hesitated, I should have just gone to you. I should have died on that plane with you."

"If it makes you feel any better I didn't feel any pain."

"I'm a coward, Kate." Neal said quietly. "I should have ended my life when I failed to save yours."

"You know that isn't what I want."

"Sometimes it's what I want."

"Hush, don't talk like that." Kate leaned in and kissed Neal's cheek. "Try to rest, you need sleep."

"I can't...nightmares..."

"I'll protect you."

Neal started to protest but Kate reached out and pressed her fingertips against his lips to quiet him. Giving in Neal laid down on his side with his back against the wall. Closing his eyes he curled up, finding himself surprisingly comfortable. Suddenly feeling alone Neal opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow. Free from hallucinations for a moment he looked around the empty room with a heavy heart. Laying back down he stared blankly at the white walls.

"I miss you..."


	13. Feeling no pain

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twelve: Feeling No Pain

"Agent, please, you need to let us take you to the hospital."

"I don't have time." Peter said as he once again pulled off the oxygen mask the EMT secured over his nose and mouth. "It's not all that painful."

"That's because it is third degree burn and the nerve endings are damaged."

"Look, just patch me up so I can get through the next twelve hours and I promise to seek more medical help after that."

"You're going to get me fired." The EMT sighed heavily.

"If that happens you call me and I'll fix it." Peter reached into his pocket and gave the EMT his business card.

The EMT took the business card and tucked it away. Sitting on sidewalk across from the still burning warehouse Peter watched the fire department battle the flames. The large building fire was not going down without a fight. With a horrendous crack the roof finally gave way and crashed into the building.

Having convinced the EMT that his burned leg didn't hurt Peter had to grind his teeth and keep quiet when he started working on it. The EMT had to cut the charred lower portion of his pant leg off and peel it from the burnt flesh. Looking down Peter couldn't help but lament the loss of one of his favorite pair of pants. As a second thought he realized that the fire had done far more damage than he realized.

"I really do need a hospital...don't I?"

"Yes you do." The EMT said as he started to clean the area.

"Peter!" Diana called as she rushed over.

"Diana..."

"What the hell happened?" Diana asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"No." The EMT huffed as he continued to work.

"Yes." Peter corrected firmly. He reached over and grabbed the plastic bag he'd kept in his pocket during the escape. "I need you to take this to the lab and get this analyzed. There is a crystal ball and a tarot card wrapped in a shirt. Be very careful there is something on both of them that is highly toxic to the touch."

"Toxic? Is this what is happening to Caffrey?"

"I hope so, if we can figure out what it is the doctors might be able to help him. Find Jeff in the lab, he owes me one, tell him I need to know exactly what is on that card, life or death type rush."

"Got it."

"Thank you. I'll be at Bethel, have him fax the results directly to Dr. Sandeen." Peter carefully handed Diana the evidence. "Tell Jones to get on hunting Josephine Hanes down, we've got her on two accounts of attempted murder. She won't be able to post bail this time."

Diana nodded and headed back to her car at a hurried pace. Peter gasped as the EMT wrapped a large piece of bio-skin over his calf. The EMT offered him some morphine, but he refused it fearing the mental confusion that would go along with it. After a few additional layers of bandaging the EMT tapped a cold pack over the area.

The heat damage to the side of his face wasn't nearly as bad and only required a brief wash in cold sterile water. It was his hand where he had grabbed the door that was bothering him the most. The EMT used more of the protective synthetic skin to cove his palm and wrapped it in gauze before giving him another cold back to hold.

"Take those off in an hour." The EMT instructed pointing to the cold packs. "Get to a hospital as soon as possible. Drink lots of water. If you start to get dizzy, nauseous, fever, sw..."

"Right, right, can I go now?" Peter asked impatiently.

"You may go AMA."

"AMA?"

"Against medical advice."

"Thanks."

Peter tried to get to his feet from the sidewalk and found it more difficult than he'd thought it would be. The EMT stared at him coldly, not about to help a patient that he clearly didn't feel should be walking away in the first place. Determined to leave Peter managed to get on his feet after a few tries. His leg protested his first few steps with a lancing pain that threatened to drop him back to the pavement. Ignoring the pain he got back in his car and found he need to reach around the steering column to turn the key with his left hand.

"I probably shouldn't be driving."

Bethel Hospital where Neal was being treated wasn't far and Peter made it there quickly. There really wasn't much he could do for Neal and in the back of his mind he knew that his time was probably better spent hunting down Josephine. However, he didn't want to leave Neal alone in what might be his final hours, even if he was too delusional to know he had a friend.

"Dr. Sandeen," Peter greeted as he stepped onto the ward. "How is Neal?"

"How are you?" Sandeen asked in concerned. "What happened?"

"Just a quick brush with a warehouse fire, I'm fine. What is happening with Neal?"

"The hallucinations come and go, at times he's perfectly clear. His physical condition is deteriorating more slowly than before which gives us some more time, however, he is nauseous, increasingly sensitive to light, and on the edge of going into acute renal failure."

"Renal...that's kidneys, right?"

"That's right."

"I've got two, he can have one of mine." Peter offered only half jokingly.

"I wish it was that simple." Sandeen smiled sadly. "We are running some more tests, but so far we don't have a toxin pinpointed. I have some heavy metal testing ordered, but that takes time."

"I have the poison, I got a sample. I'm getting it analyzed right now, they will fax you the results."

"That would give us a great starting point."

"Can I see him?"

"He's sleeping right now, but you can go in there. We are going to have to wake him up soon. If he doesn't manage to drink something in the next hour I am going to have to try and start an IV again."

"Again, you tried and it didn't work?"

"With no idea what is in his system, the way he reacted the first time, and such poor kidney and liver function I don't dare sedate him again. The last time we tried to restrain him for an IV he nearly went into heart failure with panic. He's not dangerously dehydrated yet, so I backed off."

Sandeen lead Peter back to where they were keeping Neal. The two orderlies from before followed along behind. Looking around at the white walls and white floor with the florescent lighting overhead Peter wondered how anyone kept their sanity here, let alone recovered. Sandeen checked through the window before unlocking the door.

"I'll need you to leave your jacket, tie, and shoes with us, you can keep the cold pack. Jackson and Philips are going to be right outside the door in case he turns violent again."

"Okay." Peter agreed and removed the items, he had left his weapon in the lockbox of his car.

"If he wakes, try to get him to drink. There is a pitcher in there already, and a basin in case it doesn't stay down."

Peter didn't like the sound of 'in case it doesn't stay down'. Sandeen stepped to the side to let him enter the small room. Peter's heart stumbled in its rhythm when he looked down on Neal sleeping curled up in the corner. Even in his sleep he was shivering and jerking his leg like a dog dreaming of chasing a rabbit.

"The tremors are a new development," Sandeen said quietly "further neurological damage."

"Can this be reversed?"

"Honestly, Agent Burke, I don't know. He's young and healthy, with a strong will so he has that on his side."

The doctor's tone suggested that he wasn't as hopefully as he was trying to be. Peter walked as quietly as he could over to Neal. Stopping a few feet away he sat down on the soft floor. It wasn't easy to find a comfortable position with his injured leg, but he managed. Neal remained lock in his uneasy sleep with each breath seeming to take amazing effort.

Peter was suddenly glad that he wasn't out on the hunt for Josephine at the moment. He wasn't sure that he would have been able to keep himself from shooting her rather than bringing her in. The sheer cruelty of the deliberate slow poisoning was beyond Peter's understanding, other than the fact that it was making him angrier than he could ever remember being in a long time.

Suddenly whimpering in his sleep Neal's tremors became worse. Peter wasn't sure if he should just let Neal ride out the nightmare or if he should step in and wake him. He didn't know if the sleeping world's torments were worse than the waking ones or not. When Neal arched his back with a cry of pain and started kicking against the wall Peter couldn't just stay by and do nothing.

"Neal...wake up." Peter said softly.

Peter's voice cut right through Neal's dreams and woke him instantly. He snapped his eyes open and jumped to his feet. Peter could hear the men outside turning the lock to enter, but he held his hand up to stop them. Far from being a threat Neal was pressing his back into the corner as hard as he could.

Allowing Neal to adjust to being awake Peter stayed still. Neal studied him distrustfully for a while. Eventually he sat down, bringing his knees up to his chest once more. The nervous tremors that he had no control over put his hands in constant motion. Looking fairly calm Neal sighed heavily and just stared at the far wall.

"Neal? How ar..."

"I'm sorry, Peter," Neal interrupted "I don't talk to hallucinations."

"I'm not a hallucination."

"You all say that."

"Good point." Peter admitted. "I'm not sure how I can prove that I'm here."

"Why do you look like that?" Neal asked despite his strict policy on not talking to figments of his imagination.

"Like what?"

"Like...like you've been hurt." Neal looked away and closed his eyes tight as he started to panic. "I can't help you, I've tried, I'm sorry...I can't...I smell smoke, but I can't help you, so please don't ask me to."

"Easy, Neal. I was a little injured by a fire, but I'm okay. I was at Josephine's, and I wa..."

"No, don't go to Josephine, she's dangerous...she put this curse on me."

"It's not a curse, Neal, it's a poison and I was able to get some to the doctor. We'll have a cure as soon as we know what it is."

"Poison...that actually makes sen..."

Neal stopped as he pitched forward onto his hands and knees and began retching violently. Kneeling next to him Peter rubbed between his shoulders to try and help calm him. When Neal got his stomach under control Peter offered him the cold pack that he'd been using on his hand. Neal gratefully accepted the gift as he sat back and pressed it against his forehead.

"Thank you." Neal whispered.

"Does this prove to you that I'm real?"

"It does." Neal smiled. "However the jury is still out on the miniature pink elephant sitting over in the corner."

"A joke, you must be feeling better."

"I feel like I'm dying...but the voices are quieter."

"The doctor told me that it's really important that you drink something."

"No, no, I can't." Neal shook his head. "Everything tastes like blood, I can't stand it."

"Blood?"

"Metallic, even now I can taste it. There is so much blood here...its on the walls, its all over my hands...I can't get away from it...I'm so thirsty, but nothing helps..."

Peter could see that Neal was slipping back into his delirium. He wanted to be able to reach out and pull him back from the edge of madness, but wasn't sure how. Cowering in the corner Neal dropped the ice pack and started dragging his hands compulsively through his onyx hair. Peter reached over to the small plastic pitcher of water and poured some into the small plastic cup. He held the cup out to Neal who looked at it with dread.

"I can't...I can't..." Neal repeated, refusing to even look at the water.

"Neal, you have to try." Peter insisted.

"It's not water, the vampires here are trying to make me one of them..." Neal babbled as he hid from the offer. "I don't know why..."

"There are no vampires, Neal. Come on, you were clear just a minute ago. Here, watch me."

It took Neal a while to look up at Peter. Once he had Neal's attention Peter sampled the water himself. Neal narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the display. His distrustful expression slowly faded and he reached out to take the glass. The tremors made it difficult for him to hold the glass steady enough to drink from. Peter gently took hold of Neal's wrist to help reduce the shaking.

Still hesitant to drink Neal took a few deep breaths. With sudden resolve he downed the water like he was forcing down a shot of whiskey near the end of a drinking contest. Neal wrinkled his nose against the taste, but he got the water down.

Peter was just about to ask Neal how he was feeling when he suddenly looked extremely green around the gills. He closed his eyes as he was visibly pouring effort into keeping the water in his stomach. Peter put his hand on Neal's shoulder to offer him moral support. For a moment Neal looked like he was going to win the battle.

Before Peter could react Neal doubled over. Acting on instinct Peter pulled Neal closer. Neal rested his head against Peter's chest and took a few deep breaths. Just as Peter figured that they were in the clear Neal convulsed. Peter closed his eyes and tried to keep his own stomach under control as the warm clear contents of Neal's stomach soaked through his shirt.

"...sorry, Peter."

"It's okay." Peter sighed. "It's not the worst thing that's happened to me today."

Sitting back Neal managed a sad smile. Although he still looked deathly pale the smile gave Peter some hope that he was going to make it through the poisoning. The smile was suddenly replaced with an expression of terror.

"Can you hear that?" Neal asked. "They're coming...we have to get out of here."

"Neal..."

"Where's your gun? If you can hold them off I can pick the lock and get us out of here."

Neal turned to face the wall and getting to his knees he stared trying to open an imaginary lock. Peter was trying to figure out what to do when the door to the room opened and Sandeen stepped in. Neal was preoccupied with the 'lock' and didn't seem to notice.

"Agent Burke, I have great news. The analysis from your lab came in."

"You know what the poison is?"

"I do, and we have a course of treatment. I don't have the drugs on hand, but I have a local pharmaceutical company rushing over what we need."

"So he's going to be okay?"

"He should recover very quickly. There were a lot of toxins in the grease on the card, however two of them can explain what is happening. Mr. Caffrey has a mixture of mercury and datura poisoning. The hallucination are becoming less intense because his body is slowly processing the datura, but the mercury is what is causing the metallic taste, vomiting, tremors, and kidney failure."

"I don't understand, I thought mercury didn't absorb well through the skin."

"It doesn't. However, you said that you found the card at his apartment had been burned. The burning of the card turned the mercury in to a very deadly vapor."

"And the hallucinations?"

"That's the datura, it's a dangerous plant sometimes called 'Devil's trumpet' or 'Moonflower'. It produces a very powerful tropane alkaloid, it absorbs directly through the skin causing hallucinations. It was in a very high concentration in the sample. Now that I know what we are dealing with I can treat the hallucination with a benzodiazpine. I didn't dare try it before because of the risks of a dangerous drug interaction, but now that we have the toxin source it's safe."

Neal was still busy with the impossible lock when Sandeen had his orderlies come in to hold him still for a quick injection. When they grabbed a hold of him he cried out and tried to escape. Peter stayed out of the way as Sandeen moved in. The doctor was practiced in resistant patients and was able to sink the needle into Neal's arm before he even knew what was happening.

The orderlies released their captive and he instantly rushed over to the far corner of the room to get away from them. Peter found himself holding is breath as he waited for the drugs to take affect. Unsteady on his feet Neal used the wall to stay upright. Eventually he lost the panic in his eyes and sat back down.

"That will calm him down until we can get the physostigmine and dimercaptosuccinic acid here, shouldn't take more than half an hour."

"How long will it take to get the mercury out of his system?"

"It is very fast acting, he'll be feeling better by tonight."

"I'm feeling better right now." Neal giggled.

"He'll be like that for about an hour." Sandeen explained.

"Awesome." Neal smiled.

Clearly feeling no pain Neal nuzzled the wall affectionately. He still had the unsettling tremors, but he looked much more comfortable than before. Peter thanked the doctor. The others left leaving Peter and Neal alone again. Neal was still disconnected from the real world, but at least now it was peaceful.

Peter sat down next to him and leaned his back against the wall, finding himself suddenly exhausted. Neal threw his arm over Peter's shoulders and pulled him closer. Peter shook his head sadly as Neal giggled drunkenly.

"Peter...I love you, man."

"Just don't throw up on me again."

"I can not make that promise..."


	14. The Magician

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Thirteen: The Magician

"Come on, Neal, keep drinking."

"Honestly, Peter," Neal moaned in exaggerated agony "I physically can't hold any more."

"You have another full glass of that chelating agent to drink to get rid of the mercury and it only works if you flush your system with lots of water."

"Admit it, Peter, you secretly want me to throw up on you again."

"Not particularly, which is why I'm sitting over here."

"I was wondering about that."

Sitting up in a hospital bed Neal looked doubtfully at the large glass of purple drug he was supposed to be drinking. To get the mercury out of his system he needed to drink enough of the metal binding chelating agent to allow his system to deal with the toxic metal. They had mixed it with a powdered sugary drink to try and mask the sulfur taste, but if anything it just made it worse.

The hospital had given Peter a scrub top to wear and tended to his burns again. Peter was currently sitting in a chair a good six feet from the bed holding his injured hand protectively against his chest. The mercury treatment hadn't been much fun so far. Half of everything Neal tried to drink came right back up again, however he was slowly making progress. Making sure the plastic basin was near by Neal tried to muster up the motivation to drink the supposedly grape flavored chelating agent.

"Staring at it isn't going to make it go away." Peter pointed out.

"Just give me a second."

Before Neal could bring himself to drink his fourth glass of the dimercaptosuccinic acid the doctor stepped in with two more glasses of the dreadful purple liquid. Neal's already upset stomach lurched, however he managed to keep it under control by telling himself the more he threw up the medication the more he'd have to try and drink. Neal thought Sandeen was going to put the two new glasses on the small table by his bed, but instead he walked up to Peter and offered them to him.

"What's this?" Peter asked warily.

"I was reading the report on the fire you were in. A lot of the items reported destroyed were antiques and had a good chance of having lead paint."

"So?"

"Peter," Neal smiled "he's trying to tell you that you probably have lead poisoning."

"Oh no," Peter said quickly "I'm fine."

"The dimercaptosuccinic acid can't hurt." Sandeen added. "Lead poisoning is a lot slower acting than mercury."

"Peter," Neal mocked "man up and drink it."

Peter looked at the purple drink nervously. Neal could see him trying to figure out a way of getting out of it. However it was clear that the doctor wasn't about to back down. Rolling his eyes Peter reached out and took one of the glasses with his left hand. Neal held up his own glass in a mimic of toasting before chugging as much as he could stand. Peter hesitated a little longer before taking a pull on the purple drink.

"Ugh..." Peter gagged. "Tastes the way my college roommate's mini fridge smelled."

"Kind of like rotten eggs." Sandeen agreed. "The only other good treatment for mercury and lead poisoning is British anti-Lewisite."

"What does that taste like?" Peter asked.

"Nothing, it's an injection. However it is an *intensely* painful one."

"On the other hand this stuff isn't so bad." Peter remarked as he took the second glass.

"I'm suddenly liking it more." Neal added.

"I thought you might." Sandeen chuckled. "Speaking of which how are you feeling, Mr. Caffrey?"

"Good. Still a little nauseous, but I think part of that is trying to drink so much."

"Any hallucinations?"

"None." Neal reported.

"Excellent. I'd like to do one more blood test for mercury just to make sure your levels are back down."

"Okay."

"Can you hold your hands out for me?"

Neal put down the glass and held his hands out for the doctor. His fingers still twitched slightly, but it was far from the violent tremors that he had suffered from just hours ago.

"You're recovering remarkably fast." Sandeen approved. "You were lucky that Agent Burke was able to pin point the source so quickly. Another day in your state and the neurological damage could have become permanent."

"I have I said 'thank you' yet, Peter?" Neal asked with a vulpine grin.

"Not that I can recall."

"Really? My memory must be worse than I thought."

"I still haven't heard it." Peter teased.

"'Thank you'."

"You're welcome."

"Keep drinking," the doctor ordered "both of you."

"Not everyday a doctor gives you orders to drink." Neal chuckled.

Peter wasn't about to encourage Neal and just shook his head sadly. The doctor seemed satisfied that his patients were doing well and left. Two hours, nearly three gallons of water, and a record number of trips into the restroom both of the men had just about as much drinking as they could stand.

"Alright, no more water." Peter grumbled. "I am peeing clear at this point."

"More information than I needed, but so am I."

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel great. In fact I want to go home."

"Your place is kind of a mess right now." Peter said.

"What happened?"

"I assume you did."

"Oh, right." Neal replied and then gasped sharply. "Sparkles!"

"And we're back to the hallucinating..."

"No, Sparkles, June's granddaughter's cat, I locked her in the cedar trunk."

"I found her. She's fine."

"Good. Honestly though, is there any reason we have to stay here? Shouldn't we be helping in the hunt for Josephine?"

"She tried to kill a Federal Agent, there are plenty of people looking for her."

"That's something that's been bothering me."

"That she tried to kill me?"

"That she tried to kill either one of us." Neal corrected. "What was in it for her?"

"We had her arrested."

"Yeah, but for identity fraud. Even if it had gone to trial she probably would have gotten away with just a hefty fine since it was her first offense. Besides, she was clearly planing on just disappearing anyway. Why risk bringing the entire F.B.I down on herself by adding murder?"

"Spite?"

"Seriously, Peter."

"I do see what you're saying." Peter nodded. "Do you think she feared that we might stumble onto something larger?"

"Makes sense to me."

"Me too. Let's see what else was on that card." Peter texted the lab and asked for the results to be sent to his phone which came quickly. "Okay, this is interesting. The crystal ball was coated in olive oil mixed with datura metel. According to the report the concentration wasn't enough to deliver a lethal dose, even with extended exposure."

"What about the card?"

"The card had a much high concentration of datura inoxia, as well as: linseed oil, caster oil, arsenic, atropa belladonna a.k.a 'deadly nightshade', ethanol, mercury, cellulose, polyesterio...the list goes on and on."

"The only real contact poison in that is the datura, everything else needs to be ingested or inhaled. Why have so many ingredients?"

"That is a little weird. What's this one: 'traces of sclera cells and amphibian vitreous humor'...how do have humor as an ingredient?"

"Amphibian vitreous humor is a key ingredient in any good potion." Neal grinned.

"What the hell is it?"

"Eye of newt of course."

"That's disgusting."

Neal ran through the list of ingredients through his mind again. Something seemed out of place. Peter seemed to be having a similar thought as he started typing into his smartphone with his brow furrowed in thought.

"Wait," Neal suddenly realized what was wrong "you said the crystal ball had datura metel and the card had datura inoxia...what is the difference?"

"I'm looking that up right now." Peter said as he scrolled through a page. "There are nine species in the genus 'Datura'. Metel is commonly called 'Devil's trumpet', inoxia is known as 'Moonflower'. Both contain hallucinogenic tropane alkaloids."

"But they are different. Why would Josephine have two different species of Datura concentrate?"

"Different suppliers?"

"Maybe." Neal agreed. "But the two mixes are so different in their nature as well. Once is like a child's drawing, the other is more like a Raphael or a Botticelli."

"English, Neal, English."

"I think we're dealing with two different people."

"Two?"

"Josephine was just a con woman, whoever prepared the tarot cards was a certified con **artist**."


	15. Devil's Trumpet

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Fourteen: Devil's Trumpet

"Neal!"

"Hey, Mozz."

"I found someone who can lift your curse!" Mozzie stated proudly.

"Not a curse, Mozzie, I was poisoned."

"Can't it be both?"

"No. May I ask why you are waiting outside June's place for me?" Neal asked to change the subject.

"Sorry I didn't come to visit you at the hospital. You know how terrified I am of psychiatric wards."

"I can certainly understand that. But what I meant was: why didn't you just let yourself into my apartment?"

"I don't have a key."

"You've never needed one to get in before." Neal pointed out.

"True."

Neal looked at Mozzie expectantly while he waited for an actual explanation. The doctor had held him one more night, but had released him this morning. Dressed in the white scrubs with his battered sport jacket Neal really wanted to go inside to take a shower and change. However he got a feeling that there was something in the apartment that was causing Mozzie to act shiftier than usual.

"Come on, Mozzie," Neal pressed "what's going on?"

"I may have committed some...uh...light kidnapping."

"'Light' kidnapping?" Neal repeated stunned. "Mozzie, what the hell did you do?"

"I found Josephine."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs."

"You didn't hurt her did you?" Neal demanded as he fished out his keys to get in the front door.

"Of course not." Mozzie replied insulted. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"Until a few seconds ago I thought you were the kind of person who wouldn't kidnap someone and hold them in my apartment!"

"Neal, wait...there's more..."

Neal wasn't willing to listen to more, he was already on his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Although he had recovered well from the poisoning Neal still found himself uncharacteristically short of breath by the time he reached his door. Mozzie was barely half way up the stairs calling after him.

Throwing the door open Neal expected to see the fortune teller gagged and bound to one of his kitchen table chairs. Josephine was at the kitchen table, but she was sitting there peacefully. She was feeding Sparkles a shallow dish of milk. The cat lapped up the milk greedily while Josephine gently scratched between her ears. Josephine looked up at Neal with emerald eyes and smiled brightly.

"Neal," Josephine greeted warmly "I am glad to see that you are well."

"Right...um..." Neal said awkwardly. "So you're not being held here against your will?"

"Not any more."

"Neal..." Mozzie panted as he reached the apartment. "Neal, Josephine didn't try to kill you."

"I know that." Neal said simply.

"You do?" Mozzie and Josephine said in unison.

"I do. And unless we are in immediate danger I really need to take a shower and change."

"You do reek." Mozzie agreed.

"Thanks." Neal sighed. "The last time I went forty-eight hours without a shower was prison. So, can all of this wait?"

"By all means." Mozzie said graciously. "You might want to brush your teeth while you're at it."

Neal was about to say something snide, but then he ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth and realized that they were on the fuzzy side. Neal excused himself from his company once more and disappeared into the back room. There was just no way he could deal with all of this in the state that he was in. He recalled Peter telling him that the apartment was a mess, however it looked as though Mozzie and Josephine had worked to put everything back in place.

After a refreshing shower and tooth brushing Neal changed into a pair of black slacks and light salmon button down shirt. Getting out of the scrubs went a long way towards making him feel more human again after his time on the psych ward. Refreshed Neal rejoined his guests in the main room.

"Mozzie," Neal said as he sniffed at his collar "why does my wardrobe smell like sage and lavender?"

"Josephine and I were talking and I told her that the clothes belonged to June's late husband." Mozzie answered as if it explained everything.

"What?"

"It's bad luck to wear a dead man's clothes." Josephine explained. "The lavender will help."

"The sage is from the day before." Mozzie added. "Don't you remember?"

"I can't really trust my memories from the past few days." Neal said as he sat down at the kitchen table with them. "Okay, so who is going to explain to me the definition of 'light kidnapping'?"

"I didn't so much 'kidnap' Josephine as much as mislead her into coming here and then not letting her leave." Mozzie said as he poured himself a glass of wine. "After your swan dive off the bridge I sent out the word that I was looking for Josephine among my...uh...sources. It wasn't long before one of my reverse Coyote friends informed me that he had her."

"I'm sorry... 'reverse Coyote'?" Neal asked.

"He helps smuggle people from the US into Mexico rather than the other way around."

"Of course."

"Anyway, Coyote owed me a favor and so he handed her over."

"Mozzie told me he was going to be taking me out of New York." Josephine said. "Instead he brought me here."

"And what kept you from just leaving?"

"I discovered that I wasn't the only one looking for Josephine. The other party is much more interested in her dead than alive." Mozzie explained. "In fact she's worth five hundred thousand dead."

"I'm surprised your Coyote didn't poach her."

"He was going to," Josephine said quietly. "He had turned on me and was holding me until he could confirm how exactly he was going to be paid for my death. Mozzie saved my life."

"He owed me a really big favor that he wanted to get over with." Mozzie said cryptically. "I told her she could stay here and let us help or I'd turn her in myself for the money."

"You wouldn't have." Neal pointed out.

"No." Mozzie smiled at Josephine. "But the point was moot. She wants our help."

"I never hurt anyone, I swear."

Neal gave Josephine a skeptical look.

"Okay, I lightly drug you with Devil's trumpet, and I have used it in the past for some financial gain...but I have never tried to kill anyone." Josephine insisted.

"What about the 'death' card I was sent? It was from your deck."

"I never sent you a card, and I certainly didn't try to kill your partner and then burn down my own place. I loved everything in that warehouse, I didn't even have time to go back and get anything."

"Her story checks out, Neal." Mozzie said. "From the timeline the Coyote gave me she went straight from the F.B.I right to him."

"Why?" Neal asked.

"I was afraid. I didn't hire that army of lawyers that came to defend me."

"She wasn't the one who came up with the bail money either."

"Who did?"

"We haven't figured that part out yet." Mozzie admitted.

"What about Richards and Summers?" Neal demanded of Josephine. "You tormented them with the notion of being 'cursed' to the point where they killed themselves."

"Summers and I had parted ways a few weeks before his death. Richards was getting worse and worse, I only had him touch the crystal ball a few times. I tried to convince him that the curse was broken. I was getting scared of him. Near the end I wasn't asking him for money, he was just giving it to me, begging me to take it to make the cures stop. But I hadn't given him Devil's trumpet in weeks."

"Really?" Neal asked doubtfully.

"I tried everything to break what I believed must be a true curse on him, but I couldn't. It was Richard's death that made me decide to stop with the datura curse. Remember? I told you not to touch the crystal ball."

"True. Of course then you spit at me."

"I have a temper at times." Josephine admitted. "Please, Neal, please. I may use a few tricks from time to time to get by in this world, but I have far too much reverence for Mother Nature to take one of her creatures."

"Neal, we have to help her...she's one of us."

Taking a moment Neal tried to process everything he'd been told. He still wasn't fully sold on the idea that Josephine was just a victim in all of this. There was something about the story that stuck out in his mind, but he need more evidence before he could say anything. Josephine waited with her breath held. Sparkles jumped back up on the table and stared unblinkingly at Neal.

"Fine, but we're bringing Peter in on this."

"What?" Mozzie protested. "We don't need the Suit on this one, Neal."

"I think we do...in fact I know we do."


	16. Lines of the Heart

NOTE: Once again looked up some real palm reading stuff and found some lines that fit the White Collar boys well. ;)

* * *

><p>White Collar: Knock on Wood<p>

Chapter Fifteen: Lines of the Heart

"Mozzie," Peter sighed "you are unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Oh."

Neal did his best not to chuckle at the pair. Failing to hide his amusement Peter shot Neal an irritated look. He had called Peter over without telling him that Josephine was in the apartment. To his credit Peter had listened to the full explanation before threatening to arrest anyone one.

Peter's right temple and cheek were still bright red from the heat damage. He shifted his weight constantly trying to find a comfortable position that didn't anger the burn on his leg. Neal also noticed that he didn't seem to know what to do with his bandaged hand. Several time he went to put his hands on his hips in his usual pose only to jerk away in pain.

Josephine had stayed quiet while Neal and Mozzie explained the situation to Peter. She stepped forward now and came up to Peter. He eyed her warily, he was even less convinced than Neal that she wasn't more involved in all of this trouble. Josephine's smile with what looked like true empathy as she inspected the side of Peter's face.

"Are you in pain?" Josephine asked Peter with concern as she reached out to touch him.

"Don't worry about me." Peter said as he pulled away.

"I can fix it."

"I've already seen a doctor, I'm fine."

"But they have done nothing for your pain."

"They gave me some drugs."

"Which you're clearly not taking." Neal pointed out.

"Neal, do you have any pure cotton?" Josephine asked.

"I have some sheets that are Egyptian cotton."

"That is perfect. Please bring me one."

"I don't need any voodoo treatment." Peter insisted.

"You will thank me." Josephine purred. "Neal, I will also need some vinegar and olive oil."

Neal nodded and went in search of the items as Peter continued to protest. He brought out a white cotton sheet and gave it to Josephine while he went to get the vinegar and oil. Although he was not surprised when she tore the sheet he still cringed, it had been a very expensive import. Taking the vinegar Josephine poured some onto a square piece of sheet and approached Peter to press it against his temple.

"You're kidding right?" Peter asked as he put his good hand out to stop her.

"Trust me."

"I'd rather not."

"Peter," Neal chided "don't be rude. She's trying to help."

"Fine." Peter sighed.

Josephine gently pressed the pungent vinegar against Peter's cheek. Peter flinched when she first touched him. However Neal noticed that he quickly relaxed some of the tension that he'd been carrying in his shoulders. Josephine instructed him to hold the cloth in place while she tore off another piece.

Peter peacefully allowed her to unwrap his hand. Neal's breath hissed across his teeth as he got his first glimpse of the injury. Peter's palm near the base of his thumb held an open red wound with sickly white edges where the hot door knob had seared off part of the skin. The rest of his hand was an angry cherry red color.

Josephine used the new cloth to catch the vinegar as she poured it over the injury. Neal would have expected the vinegar to be painful, but Peter's sudden compliance with the homeopathic remedy told him it must be easing the discomfort. Josephine took a closer look at Peter's palm and then smiled mischievously.

"You have a strong Heart Line rising from the center of Mount of Jupiter." Josephine pointed out in a sultry voice. "You must have a very happy Misses at home."

"He does." Neal chuckled.

"Ha ha." Peter said without any humor.

"It is a very positive Line, Agent Burke. Such a Heart Line tells me that you are reliable, and loyal. Once you love, you love forever, never to stray. It also tells me that you have an unusually high code of honor, which makes your relationship with Neal a bit of a mystery to me."

"It's a mystery to us all." Mozzie said.

"It must be your prominent intuition lines that allow you to see past Neal's criminal exterior and see the man beneath. On the negative side it is the presence of Girdles of Venus that keeps you so emotionally distant and unwilling to believe in Fate."

"Enough." Peter grumbled as he took his hand away from Josephine.

"See? Right there, Peter," Neal teased "that's exactly what she's talking about."

"Can we get back to the case?" Peter asked in exasperation.

"I am not finished with your wounds." Josephine replied firmly.

Josephine took a large piece of the cotton sheet and asked Neal for a metal pot. She stuffed the cotton into the pot and picked up the box of matches from the kitchen table. Before anyone could stop her she lit a match and tossed it in with the sheet.

"I really wish people would stop burning things in my apartment." Neal lamented.

"You really need to get a smoke detector in here, Neal." Peter said.

"I had one."

"You did," Mozzie said "I found it in little smashed pieces on the floor. You must have destroyed it while you were crazy."

The sheet that Josephine had set on fire burned quickly down to a pile of ashes in the metal bowl. She added some of the high grade olive oil Neal had brought her earlier and mixed the two into a thick paste. Peter hesitated once again to allow the nontraditional treatment however Neal talked him into trying it. Josephine smeared a thin layer of the paste onto Peter's palm before re-bandaging it.

"How does that feel?"

"Much better." Peter admitted.

"Wash the burn each night in cool water and place more of the ashes on it. It will be fully healed in a few weeks."

"Thank you." Peter said seriously.

"Peter, what about your leg?" Neal asked.

"It's a third degree burn, it is covered with some sort of synthetic skin."

"Such a deep burn should not be treated as the others." Josephine said. "Once the wound begins to hurt that is the time to use the ash on it, only this time add some raw honey as well. The paste will help prevent an eschar from forming, which will eliminate the need for surgery. Be sure to only make the ash from pure cotton."

"I'll try that."

"No you won't." Josephine smiled knowingly.

"Probably not." Peter admitted. "Can we get back to the case now?"

Josephine nodded.

"When was the last time you saw Richards?" Peter asked.

"Five days before his death. He was becoming increasingly agitated. He said he was being chased by demons. He said that the dead whispered in his ear. "

"I experienced that." Neal said. "I kept hearing Kate. Can we have Richards tested for the datura?"

"No, I already tried. His business partner took the remains as soon as they were released by the medical examiner and had them cremated."

"His business partner?" Neal asked surprised. "He didn't have any family?"

"None. He was an orphan raised in various fosters, he never married, his life was very public and he was never known to date."

"There was a woman in his life." Josephine said confidently.

"Who?"

"I do not know. He only spoke of her once, the last time we saw one another. He didn't give me a name or any real detail. Despite his somewhat advanced years she would have been young, beautiful, and most likely mistreated."

"How can you know that?"

"His Line of the Heart rose on the Mount of Saturn, men like him are selfish, they demand perfection in their mates. They are very insistent in the pursuit of the object of their desire, but they do not show love or even affection towards their prize once they have it."

"Squiggles in the guy's hand aside, what did he say to you?" Peter asked.

"He said: 'She will never leave me.'."


	17. The Ring of Solomon

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Note from the PHOENIX: I'm thrilled everyone is still enjoying this story! I can't sleep...so I'm writing. Just so everyone knows the cotton ashes and olive oil does work, however it is only for minor second degree and first degree burns and only after the flesh has been cooled. My advice if you get a burn? See a doctor. The trick in this chapter was done on me by one of the physical therapists where I work (a coworker who out weighs me by about 75 pounds of muscle) when I had a tension headache...again, only to be performed by a professional. So what's the message? DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME...and if you do, don't blame me.

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><p>Chapter Sixteen: The Ring of Solomon<p>

Neal sat at the large conference table at the F.B.I headquarters leafing through reams of information on the finical life of Richards. They were looking for any signs of him having spent money on a female companion. So far they had come up with nothing. Diana sat at the table as well with Peter, helping out with sifting through the numbers.

Josephine was far too terrified to be left alone and so she had come along. Mozzie was busy out on the street seeing if he could figure out exactly who was offering the cash reward for Josephine's death. They had been looking at files for hours. Clearly bored Josephine stretched out like a cat and started to pretend to play piano. Neal looked up and watched her nimble fingers and decided that she could actually play.

"Josephine?" Peter asked. "Are you okay?"

"I was unaware how boring catching criminals was compared to actually being one." Josephine said honestly. "Neal, I don't know how you bare this life."

"It's not all paperwork." Neal chuckled. "Plus I don't have much of a choice."

"You are no captive here." Josephine said confidently.

"I beg to differ." Peter said. "I caught him twice, I can do it again."

"Something you remind me of every chance you get." Neal huffed. "Peter, other than transactions from Richards to Josephine I can't find anything out of the ordinary. If he had a woman he didn't exactly shower her with gifts."

"Or take her out to dinner, or pay for a hotel room, or even send her flowers." Diana added.

"He was spending all his money on Josephine." Peter agreed.

"I didn't ask him to." Josephine said defensively. "He was forcing the money on me."

"Whatever," Peter said with little sympathy "with the down turn in his stock he didn't have a lot of extra cash."

"Maybe the woman had money as well," Neal guessed "she might have been paying for their relationship."

"He sounds like a real keeper." Diana huffed. "Why would Richards think that she wouldn't leave him?"

"Vanity." Josephine said simply.

"Keep looking," Peter said "there has to be something here."

Neal sighed and went back to the reports that he had been combing through. Stiff from the events of the past few days he tried to stretch the kinks out of his neck. He jolted in surprise when Josephine dug her fingers into the tight trapezius muscles at the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed her get up from her chair, and now she was standing behind him.

Josephine ran her soft hands up his neck until she had her fingers around his throat under his jaw. Neal was about to protest the disturbingly intimate touch when she sudden pressed her thumbs into the soft flesh directly behind his ears while she simultaneous used her purchase on his jaw to nearly lift him out of his chair.

Neal gasped sharply as the bones in his neck crack audibly. A flash of pain caused him to claw at the armrests on the chair as Josephine increased the tension with a surprisingly powerful grip. She bunched her muscles as though preparing for a sharp motion. For a moment Neal actually feared that she was about to break his neck.

Before her prey could struggle Josephine relaxed, the whole move had only taken seconds. The near death experience released a wash of endorphins that raced through Neal's blood. The next breath he took was not only pain free, but held an intoxicating afterglow effect. Feeling pleasantly dizzy Neal felt his whole frame relax into the suddenly amazingly comfortable chair.

"That was amazing..." Neal said breathlessly.

"You need a cigaret?" Peter asked Neal in disgust.

"Maybe." Neal chuckled. He looked over his shoulder at Josephine. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Sugar." Josephine said as she draped her arms around him in a loose embrace.

Josephine stayed lounging over Neal's shoulder while she was looking at the papers that Neal had been studying. She reached out and opened the file folder that was off to his left. It was a set of photos of Richards. Neal wasn't sure what to do about the way she was leaning on him. He looked up and found Peter shaking his head sadly at him. Josephine didn't seem to notice that anyone was uncomfortable and spread the photos out on the table.

"I know him." Josephine said as she singled out a photo of Richards and a few others.

"Of course you do." Peter said gruffly. "That's Richards."

"No. Not Richards, the man standing next to him."

"Harker, Timothy Harker?" Peter asked. "Richards' business partner?"

"That's not the name he gave me. He said his name was Erick Johnson."

"Why didn't the fingerprint reader on your door tell you his real name the way it did me?" Neal asked.

"He wasn't in the database. My door only warns me when criminals come knocking." Josephine purred as she reached up and tucked a stray lock of Neal's hair behind his ear. "At least criminals who are careless enough to get caught..."

"Remind me again why we're helping you?" Neal asked annoyed as he finally untangled himself from her.

"The same reason people help you against their better judgement: because I'm beautiful." Josephine said casually as she sat back down in her chair. "A set of pretty eyes gets you things in this world that money can't buy. It may not be fair, but it's how the world works. A nice ass helps too."

Neal wasn't sure how to respond to that. He looked over at Peter and Diana who both gave him a 'she has a point' shrug. Josephine smiled and then pulled the photo of Harker closer. She studied it carefully before nodding.

"That is him, no question. He came to me a few weeks ago."

"Did he mention Richards?"

"No. I never did find out who referred him to me, I'm very picky about my clients." Josephine said. "And with good reason. He started wanting a simple palm reading. I did not tell him what I saw."

"What did you see?"

"He wears a rare mark on his palm. La Croix Mystic, also called the Ring of Solomon. Such men are ruled by logic, they are cold and calculating. They see the truth in others no matter how hard they try to hide it. They are not mislead easily or lied to. He did not need me to read his future, he had a plan for his life long before he met me."

"So why did he come to you?"

"After about ten minutes of reading he stopped me and asked if I offered any services of a sexual nature."

"Do you?" Diana asked point blank.

"My love is not for sale." Josephine replied calmly.

"Was Harker angry?" Neal asked.

"Men who bare the Ring of Solomon do not show anger. When I said 'no' he offered me ten thousand dollars to sleep with him and when I turned him down again he politely said good night, gave me a few hundred dollars for the reading and left. I never saw him again."

"You didn't try to poison him?" Peter said.

"I wouldn't have dared. I do not let just anyone touch my crystal ball, and certainly never on our first 'date'."

"You also mentioned that you stopped using the datura on Richards...did he start to get worse after Harker visited you?" Neal asked.

"Now that you mention it, yes. It was about three days after Harker came that Richards came back complaining about hearing the dead."

"I think we just found ourselves a new suspect..."


	18. Misdirection

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Seventeen: Misdirection

"Why would Harker do any of this?"

"My first though is misdirection." Neal suggested.

"Misdirection is always your first thought." Peter fired back.

"Harker is a man with a dark secret." Josephine said.

"What secret is that?" Peter asked.

"I do not know." Josephine admitted. "His Line of Head rose thro..."

"Neal," Peter interrupted Josephine "a word in private?"

"You know he uses the voice inflection as though that was a question," Neal said to Josephine "but in all reality it's a direct order."

"Neal..." Peter growled.

"Please excuse us."

Peter waited by the conference room door for Neal to exit first. He flashed Diana a silent order to keep her eye on Josephine and she nodded. If Josephine was nervous she didn't show it. She just reached out and asked Diana if she could have her hand. Diana stared at her coldly.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Josephine smiled. "And I won't tell your girlfriend we were holding hands."

"Never going to happen." Diana crossed her arms over her chest. She had clearly been taken off guard by the fact that Josephine had known about her sexual orientation.

"You two play nice." Neal said as lingered by the door to see how things would play out. "Or don't, either way..."

"Neal, move it." Peter barked.

"You're no fun, Peter."

"So I've heard."

Neal chuckled as Peter physically pushed him out of the room. Not wanting to annoy Peter further Neal headed a few doors down to Peter's office. Peter was close behind him and shut the door for extra privacy. Peter looked agitated as he stalked over towards the window with a slight limp.

"What's wrong, Peter?"

"We are being conned." Peter hissed.

"What gives you that idea?"

"Because I get the same feeling around her that I get around you!"

"Yeah," Neal smiled "she's better than I first gave her credit for."

"I can only deal with one 'Caffrey' type personality at a time."

"So far she's given us the best lead we have."

"I'm not sold." Peter said firmly. "Neal, we can't trust this woman."

"You still think she tried to kill us?"

"That makes just as much sense as Harker."

"I disagree. Harker wants Richards dead for one reason or another. He finds out that Richards is seeing a mystic, he takes the opportunity to poison his partner. That way if it is ruled murder rather than suicide he can point the finger at Josephine. When the F.B.I shows up at her place he figures we found the toxin in Richards and traced it back to her, and that he's gotten away with murder. Except we're not there to arrest her for murder, so he bails her out before she can connect herself to him. He moves to kill us, pin it on her, and then puts a bounty on her head to make sure it doesn't go to trial."

"You've been blinded by Josephine's 'victim' act."

"How so?"

"Do your homework, Neal, with Richards dead Harker has lost everything." Peter growled darkly. "The company is ruined, it was already struggling, with Richards' death the stock has plunged to nearly worthless. The only thing Harker ever stood to gain from his death was a massive amount of debut."

"You've been in the White Collar division too long." Neal clucked in mock sympathy.

"What?"

"It's not always about money, Peter." Neal explained. "He could have wanted Richards dead for any number of reasons."

"Even if he did kill him. This case didn't start as a murder investigation, in fact we still have no evidence that Richards was pushed to suicide. We have nothing on Harker. The only person of interest was Josephine and now suddenly she recognizes Harker and is pointing at him for two counts of attempted murder? It makes a hell of a lot more sense that she tried to kill us in fear that we were going to nail her on extortion. When she found out that she failed she pretended to have a broken wing and came looking for 'help'."

"Josephine was already with the Coyote when the trap at the warehouse was set, and Mozzie rescued her from being slaughtered for a bounty."

"A bounty that for all we know she put out on herself."

Neal paused for a moment in thought. Peter was right, there were far too many variables to come to any one conclusion. Josephine certainly had the intelligence to put a very complicated plan into action if she wanted or needed to. Neal slipped his hands into his pockets as he often did when he became lost in thought.

"Still trust Josephine?" Peter asked.

"I can only think of two reasons for Harker to be involved in all of this."

"Same here." Peter agreed. "Either Harker is trying to get rid of Josephine."

"Or Josephine is trying to get ride of Harker."

"And we've gotten stuck in the middle."


	19. The Tunnel Rat

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Seventeen: The Tunnel Rat

"I'm sorry, Gentlemen, Mr. Harker is in an important business meeting."

"This is more important." Peter said firmly.

Neal noticed the slight grin that touched Peter's lips and he walked past the secretary. There was nothing Peter enjoyed more than getting the upper hand when first meeting a suspect, and interrupting business was a great way to do exactly that. Harker's office was behind a heavy set of cedar doors that Peter pulled open.

Harker was holding a meeting with three other men. He looked up at the intruders and instantly got to his feet. Harker was not an imposing figure by any stretch of the imagination. Neal guessed his age to be close to sixty and he probably only weighed twice that in pounds. His thin frame struggled to reach five foot five. Despite his initial reaction to seeing Peter he composed himself quickly.

"Can I help you?" Harker asked in a tone that suggested that his guest better have something important to say or there would be a high price to pay for the interruption.

"Special Agent Peter Burke, F.B.I."

"Just what I need." Harker muttered before turning back to the men in his office. "I'm sorry about this, we'll have to continue our meeting later."

"Harker," the white hair man grumbled "we're not going to do any deals as long as you're under investigation by the F.B.I."

"This company has nothing to hide." Harker said calmly. "If anything an F.B.I investigation will give you more confidence, there is nothing for them to 'uncover'."

"You'd better hope so."

Harker forced a business smile and escorted the three men out. Closing the large wooden doors to his office Harker turned on Peter and Neal without even attempting to hide his irritation. He walked up to the pair and looked Neal over distastefully.

"Who's the kid?" Harker spoke directly to Peter rather than Neal. "There's no way he's an Agent."

"My name's Neal Caffrey, I'm a consultant."

"Meaning you're a criminal." Harker said before glancing at Neal's feet. "I bet you've got a tracking anklet on. My tax dollars better not be paying for that fancy suit you're wearing."

"Mr. Harker," Peter said before Neal could answer "we have a few questions about your business partner."

"Of course, Agent Burke." Harker sighed. "Bastard takes the easy way out and leaves me with the mess to clean up. If I can't find someone to buy this place or seal a deal on a merger I'll be filing for chapter 13 by the end of the year."

"Did you ever suspect Richards of embezzling any of the company's funds?"

"No, we just haven't been doing well lately and this is the last straw. I do the account and business side, he was the 'people' side. In all honesty Agent Burke, Richards wasn't good enough at math to embezzle. Richards put a client friendly face on the company. He was the hand shaker, the networker. He was never very good with money."

"Did you know that he was losing hundreds of thousands of dollars in his personal life?"

"I know that he was losing his mind near the end, but I stay out of his personal finances."

"Did he have a will?" Neal asked.

"He did. Clearly I got the company, for what good that's doing me. His personal assets were divided among some charities."

"Do you recognize this woman?"

Peter handed Harker a sketch of Josephine that Neal had done for this purpose. He had done the drawing in the style of a sketch artist with a few minor mistakes. They wanted Harker to think that they didn't have all the details on Josephine. Neal watched him as he looked over the sketch. To his credit he gave the drawing a hard look, someone who wanted to distance themselves from a suspect would usually say 'no' the instant they were shown an image.

"I don't recognize her from the drawing."

Neal was impressed by Harker's ability to carefully chose his words when he needed to.

"We believe she was extorting a large amount of money from your partner." Peter clarified to test Harker's reaction.

"That wouldn't surprise me. Richards had two weaknesses: superstition and women."

"Women?" Neal repeated. "I thought Mr. Richards was noted for never dating."

"I didn't say he 'dated', Mr. Caffrey, I said he had a weakness for women, which was a polite way of saying 'prostitutes'."

"Ah."

"Are we done here?" Harker asked as he handed Peter back the drawing.

"I think we ar..."

"Sir, were you a tunnel rat?" Neal asked casually.

"Wha...what?" Harker stuttered in shock.

"In the war, were yo..."

"Get out!" Harker roared in sudden rage. "Get the hell out of my office!"

"Mr. Harker, plea..." Peter tried to sooth.

"Out! You want back in here you damn well better bring a warrant with you!"

Abandoning trying to calm the angry businessman Peter turned to leave. Neal followed Peter out of the office. Peter held his peace until they were on the elevator. As soon as they were alone and a few floors away from Harker Peter turned on Neal.

"Neal, what the hell was that?" Peter snarled angrily.

"There was a picture of him with his Vietnam platoon on the wall. On the mantle behind his desk in a glass case he had a Soviet pistol rather than the standard issue .45 caliber. That combined with his small stature would make him perfect for invading the tunnels of the Viet Cong. They preferred the lighter muzzle flash of the Soviet pistols since in the enclosed tunnels the crack of a .45 rendered them deaf for a while. The men sent into the dangerous tunnels were known as 'tunnel rats'."

"I know what a 'tunnel rat' is, Neal." Peter snapped. "What I'm questioning is you complete lack of tact when dealing with a suspect."

"Tunnel rats were experts in both arming and disarming booby traps and trip wires."

"Like the one that set off the fire at Josephine's."

"Exactly."

"That still doesn't prove anything."

"I can also tell you for a fact that he recognized us both as well as Josephine."

"A fact as in 'a fact that will hold up in court'?" Peter asked doubtfully.

"Well...no, not that kind of fact." Neal admitted.

"So, a 'Caffrey fact' then?"

"Look, when we first came in there was real terror in Harker's eyes, he literally jumped to his feet. A man with as much power as he has doesn't get to his feet for just anyone. He went on the defensive with me and tried to raise his status above me by 'guessing' that I was a criminal."

"That's not as difficult to guess as you'd like to think."

"In any case, when you didn't instantly arrest him he tried to ally himself with you by cooperating rather than calling in his lawyers. He tensed his shoulders when you handed him the drawing of Josephine, and he held his breath after lying about not recognizing her. As soon as you mentioned the extortion he relaxed his shoulder and released that breath."

Peter thought about everything Neal had told him as the elevator reached the ground floor. Neal walked at his side silently as they made their way back to the car. He knew that Peter often needed time to mull over details before drawing conclusions. It was part of what made him a good Agent, he was open minded to solutions other than the ones given by first impressions.

By the time they got to the car it was clear that Peter had doubts about the Harker's version of the story. At the same time he had the look on his face that he got when he knew he didn't have enough for a solid arrest. Rather than unlocking the car doors Peter stood by the driver's side and looked at Neal across the hood of vehicle.

"What's wrong?" Neal asked.

"Motive, Neal, beyond having no hard evidence against Harker we also have no motive."

"I'm working on that."

"How?"

"Let Josephine spend tonight at my place."

"Oh, no. No way."

"She's hiding something, I know she is."

"And I'm sure you'd just love to go looking for it."

"Peter, it's not like that. I need Josephine to trust me, she's not going to tell us everything with the F.B.I hanging over her. Trust me."

"And if Josephine turns out to be our killer?"

"She's not."

"Neal..."

"I'm not saying she's a hundred percent innocent in all of this, we already know she's not, but she's not a murderer. I'm literally willing to bet my life on that. Peter, if we want the real story I need some time alone with her."

"A little con to con talk?"

"Exactly."

"I'm going to regret this..."


	20. Worthless vs Priceless

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Eighteen: Worthless Vs Priceless

"How did you talk the Emperor into allow this?"

"Peter can be reasoned with, if he's in the mood." Neal smiled. "Plus do you have any idea how expensive it is, not to mention the paperwork involved, in housing someone in a safe house?"

"Your second explanation rings far more true than the first." Josephine chuckled.

"Cutting costs and paperwork is how I reason with Peter."

"You are good at manipulating him in to doing what you want while at the same time making him believe that he's benefiting."

"I've had years of practice."

"Still, I did not think that you would be able to get me immunity from the extortion charges. Thank you for that."

"You came to us fearing for you life and you're helping us catch someone who tried to murder a Federal Agent. It's amazing how much leeway you can get from the F.B.I if you have something they want."

"That is true of any relationship." Josephine pointed out.

"We catch Harker and we might even get your fraud charges reduced."

"I'd be forever in your debut."

"I just want you to be safe."

Josephine's dark face lit up with a mischievous smile as she reached out and brushed the back of her hand under Neal's jaw. He wasn't sure what it was about her touch that effected him but it just always felt so electric. Her intoxicating herbal scent tickled his senses every time she came close enough to touch him. Josephine locked her eyes on Neal's and silently dared him to look away.

When Josephine went to card her fingers into his hair behind his ear Neal reluctantly backed away from the pleasant sensation. He knew exactly what she was doing and he was close to losing control of the situation. Josephine freely allowed him to pull away from her spell, accepting it the same way a cat releases a mouse from under its paw so that the cruel game of predator and prey could continue longer.

"Can I at least offer you dinner for all you're doing for me?" Josephine asked casually.

"You cook?"

"No, but I know the best Chinese take-out in all of New York."

"Deal."

"I feel I should warn you that I'm strict vegan."

"I'm okay with tofu."

"Good. Can I borrow your phone?"

Neal hesitated to hand his phone over to her even though he wasn't sure what damage she could do with it. It wasn't until this moment that he realized how much distrust he still held against her. When Neal remained indecisive Josephine put her hands up in a sign of peace.

"It's okay, I understand." Josephine said with out offense. "I can give you their number if you want to call them yourself."

"No, it's okay." Neal pulled out his phone. "Here. I'm going to go change..."

"Into something more comfortable?" Josephine finished with a chuckle. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

"I was going to say 'out of my work clothes', but I guess technically it's something more comfortable."

Josephine smiled again and dialed the restaurant to order something called 'Buddhist Delight'. Trying to prove to both her and himself that he trusted her Neal went into the walk in closet and closed the door. Pulling off his jacket Neal took everything out of his pockets, only to find that his Federal ID was missing. He double checked all of the pockets, but it was gone.

Neal's first thought went to Josephine having stolen it, but then he couldn't think of any reason for her to do so. It just identified Neal as a F.B.I consultant, it didn't give him access to anything special. There was no reason for her to have taken it. Pulling on a pair of kakis and a white t-shirt Neal went back out into the main room. Josephine was standing by the kitchen table with the small black leather case that held his Federal ID in her hand.

"Looking for this?" Josephine asked.

"You did take it."

"I lifted it from you in the conference room." Josephine admitted.

"That's why you leaned over me. Bold to do a lift in front of two other people."

"They were doing their best to ignore me hanging on you."

"So you took it just to prove you could?" Neal asked a little annoyed.

"No." Josephine shook her head and handed over the ID.

"Why does it smell like eucalyptus?"

"I turned it into a good luck charm for you. In order for the spell to truly work it must be an item of personal value that is lost and then returned."

"It still counts if it's stolen?"

"Only if you look for it first."

Neal looked at Josephine and tried to decide if she was being serious or not. He was starting to get the feeling that he had dangerously underestimated her. Sparkles appeared out of nowhere and jumped up on the kitchen table. Purring loudly the cat demanded Josephine's attention. Josephine scooped Sparkles up and took her over the couch.

"Can I interest you in some wine while we wait for dinner?" Neal asked on his way to the kitchen.

"Please. I hid the Spanish Rioja under the sink."

"What? Why?" Neal asked as he opened the cabinet. "Some sort of spirit cleansing?"

"No, to keep Mozzie from drinking it. He was posing a serious threat to your wine collection while we were cleaning up the place."

"Yeah, I've tried for years to find a wine that I like that he doesn't...but Mozzie even likes 'Cold Duck' so I don't think it's going to happen."

"Probably not."

Neal retrieved the Spanish Rioja and poured two glasses of the rich red wine. Josephine accepted the glass and continued to pet Sparkles. It didn't take long for dinner to arrive and Neal joined Josephine and Sparkles on the antique couch. Rather than deal with plates they shared the veggie laden meal straight from the small white boxes that it came in with the cheap bamboo chopsticks. Not in any hurry to talk about Harker they shared a few random stories back and forth.

When they'd finished with the meal Neal cleared off the small coffee table and brought back the bottle of Spanish red. Josephine slowly sipped at another glass with Sparkles still happily curled up on her lap. They sat quietly for a while before Josephine picked Sparkles up and put her on the floor. Looking like her pride was hurt Sparkles slunk away.

"I want to see your anklet." Josephine said suddenly.

"It's not that exciting."

"Come on, give me your leg." Josephine insisted.

Neal shrugged and turned on the couch so that he could bring his leg up. Josephine guided Neal to rest his leg in her lap. Leaning against the arm of the couch Neal peacefully allowed her to pull up his pant leg. The black band around Neal's ankle had a small green light on it that flashed rhythmically. Josephine gently touched at the deep purple bruising that also ensnared Neal's ankle. She knit her brow as she inspected the device and the damage.

"I am surprised that Peter would be so cruel." Josephine said sadly.

"Cruel? Without this I'd still be locked in an eight by six cell slowly going insane."

"But it's clearly injuring you."

"What? Oh, the bruising. No, that's not from the anklet. I got my leg caught in some ropes."

"So you were the man on the bridge that the papers were talking about."

"I don't remember any of it." Neal shrugged.

"You're lying."

Neal wasn't sure if Josephine truly knew he was lying or if she was just guessing. He distinctly remembered the chaotic terror and the nauseating free fall as he stepped backwards off the bridge just before everything went black. Every so often he caught himself jerking forward slightly as the falling sensation suddenly returned. During his last night in the hospital he had startled awake several times in a cold sweat feeling as though he was falling once more.

"Close your eyes." Josephine instructed. "Relax, tilt your head back."

"Joseph..."

"Trust me."

Since gaining trust was the whole point of the evening Neal gave in. He rested his head back on the curved arm of the couch that he was leaning against. Closing his eyes he felt the familiar touch of vertigo that he'd recently developed and was forced to bring his head up for a moment before leaning back again. Josephine slipped one hand under his calf and gently tugged on his leg a few times to make sure he was relaxed at the hip. He automatically fought her at first, but after being instructed to take a deep breath he was able to relax.

"Keep breathing, concentrate on relaxing." Josephine said softly. "Let me know if you start to feel sick."

"Sick?" Neal asked bring his head back up.

"I'm going to apply pressure to the sole of your foot that corresponds to your inner ear. It can help with vertigo and falling sensations."

"How do you know that's what's bothering me?"

"Because I'm not blind." Josephine replied seriously. "Now close your eyes and relax."

Neal nodded and did as he was told. He tensed when Josephine first pressed her thumb into the ball of his foot just under his small toe. Josephine released him and repeated pulling on his leg to get him to relax again before going back to his foot. Josephine kept a steady pressure on the original point as she used her other hand to rub the arch of his foot. It wasn't long before the last thing on Neal's mind was the fall from the bridge.

"You do have a magical touch." Neal admitted.

"I'm willing to bet you do as well."

Neal chuckled as Josephine continued to work on his foot. He wasn't surprised when she ran her hand up his leg and dug her fingers into his thigh. Neal was taken off guard with the speed and grace with which she escalated her contact. Josephine stalked up his body like a lioness slinking through the grass towards her next victim. Laying on top of him she settled her hips on his.

"Is this part of the vertigo treatment?" Neal asked with a smile.

"Of course."

Josephine reached up under Neal's shirt and scratched her nails down the side of his ribs sending an enjoyable shiver down his spine. Closing his eyes Neal breathed in her almost earthy scent. Josephine nuzzled up his neck and captured his ear between her teeth. Neal growled and arched his back as Josephine bit down hard enough to bring him to the edge of pain. She released his ear and tried to engage him in a passionate kiss. Neal turned way at the last second.

"Stop." Neal whispered.

"Don't worry, Sugar, I'm not looking for a commitment...just some fun."

Josephine kissed down his throat and sunk her teeth into his shoulder. Neal had never encountered a women who bit and was a little surprised by how the painful sensation intensified the pleasure of the rest of the experience. When she slipped her hand down his side to pull on the waistband of his pants he took her wrist and stopped her.

"Josephine...tell me what really happened with Harker."

"What?"

"Harker, I met him today." Neal continued. "He would never have propositioned a woman like you for sex. Even I'm a little nervous at the prospect of taking this evening any further."

"You're certainly working hard to break the mood." Josephine complained.

"I'm sorry, believe me I am. I'm just trying to sort everything out. I honestly believe Harker tried to burn my friend alive."

"It upsets you that you weren't there to help him, doesn't it?" Josephine asked sympathetically.

"Peter nearly died horribly trying to save me...I need to know why."

"I'm sorry, Neal, I don't know why."

"You must, you are the only thing that joins Harker to Peter and I. What did he want from you?"

Josephine sighed heavily as she got off Neal and sat back. Seeing that she was thinking about what to tell him Neal gave her some time. Refusing to look him in the eyes Josephine started moving her fingers nervously. Neal suddenly realized that she was pretending to play piano again. It was her 'tell' for when she got nervous.

"Josephine, you can trust me. I only want to help."

"I've lost so much." Josephine whimpered. "Harker almost killed Peter, but he actually managed to destroy everything I loved. I only have the one piece left...I can't let you take it from me."

"Of course, the fire destroyed your collection, I'm sorry."

"Neal, you don't understand, it was more than just 'stuff' to me." Josephine whimpered as tears slipped down her cheeks. "It was a part of me...and now it's gone."

Breaking down in a mixture of misery and anxiety Josephine wrapped her arms over her stomach. She had clearly been doing everything to distract herself from the pain of losing the objects she had hoarded over the years. When she broke down into a bitter weeping Neal offered her a comforting embrace. Josephine buried her face in his shirt and cried until she was breathless.

"Help me stop him, Josephine. Please trust me."

Josephine didn't reply at first. She stayed pressed against his chest so that he wouldn't be able to see her tears. Sparkles came over and hissed at Neal before jumping up next to Josephine and rubbing against her affectionately. Josephine pulled away from Neal and held the cat. Still unwilling to look at him she took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

"Richards gave me a gift the day before Harker came. An amazing Egyptian chest, the kind buried with the Pharaohs to hold their worldly goods. He asked me to protect it, to love it as I would love a child. It's large, nearly five feet long, gilded with golden hieroglyphs, carved with the most beautiful scenes of Egypt in Her prime. ...it feels like it has a soul."

"Harker tried to buy it from you."

"He offered me ten thousand for it." Josephine admitted. "Then a hundred thousand."

"What is it worth?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"It's worthless." Josephine whispered. "It's a reproduction. It's beautiful and I love it, but it's not real."

"Why does Harker want it so badly?"

"I can't imagine."

"What's inside?"

"It doesn't open. It's just one solid piece of wood."

"Was it destroyed in the fire?"

"No." Josephine shook her head. "I kept in a special place, a secret place."

"I need to see it."

"I...I can't...please, I can't lose it." Josephine said as she began to cry again.

"I don't want to take it away, I just want to look at it."

"I can't...it's mine."

"Josephine, if we don't stop Harker he is going to keep searching for it. He is willing to kill me, you, Peter, anyone who stand between him and that chest."

"Neal, please...it's all I have left."

"Josephine this chest is worth killing for, but that doesn't mean it's worth dying for."


	21. Against the weight of a feather

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Nineteen: Against the Weight of a Feather

"How was your shower?"

"Extremely cold."

"I bet." Josephine chuckled. "I noticed you locked the door."

"And I noticed that you tested it."

"Just curious." Josephine chuckled.

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Ah yes, but satisfaction brought it back."

Neal stepped back as Josephine reached out to tousle his damp hair. She had very quickly gone from being near hysteria over her lost possessions back to being almost predatory. Neal had called Peter the instant she had agreed to show him the Egyptian chest before her wild mood swings changed her mind. She looked calm, but once again her fingers danced across an imaginary keyboard.

"Josephine, are you alright?" Neal asked concerned.

"I have a court date for fraud charges, I've lost millions of dollars worth of precious collections, I'm homeless, and a killer may want me dead...why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Everything is going to work out."

"Just catch the man who set fire to my world."

"We will." Neal promised as he heard a knock at the door. "That will be Peter."

Neal hurried over to the door to let Peter in. He was relieved that he had arrived so quickly. He was worried that if Josephine got bored that she'd start to become overly friendly again. Mozzie had warned him once: 'never sleep with a crazy woman, no matter how beautiful she is'. Neal had never really understood the advice until now.

Neal opened the door for Peter who looked like he'd never changed out of the suit he'd been wearing earlier. In fact Peter had gone back to the office after meeting with Harker, and poured over his records looking for an anomaly. Peter looked at Neal's wet hair and the fact that he clearly had changed clothes and raised a disapproving eye brow.

"It's not what you think." Neal said.

"I don't even care. Where is this box?"

"Josephine won't tell me where it is, she insists on coming with us."

"Fine." Peter said quickly. "Let's go."

"You okay, Peter?"

"Harker really pissed me off and I want to nail him. My gut tells me he's our guy, but his finical records are spotless, so this crate thing is our only shot. Plus my leg hurts like hell, which is not improving my mood."

"Fair enough. Let's go."

Neal turned and offered his hand to Josephine since she had been keeping back. She hesitated, but eventually stepped forward and took his hand. Peter's car was parked out front. He was still having difficulty starting the car with his injured hand but he refused to allow Neal to drive. Josephine took shotgun and guided Peter back down towards the warehouse district. They came to a large storage facility and Josephine leaned over Peter's lap to tap her code into the gate. Neal chuckled at the way Peter stayed completely frozen while she invaded his personal space.

They drove down the rows of locked storage units until Josephine pointed one out. Getting out of the car they stepped up to the rolling metal garage type door. Josephine turned to Neal and smiled apologetically.

"I don't have the key, can you..." Josephine left the rest of the question unasked.

"He can." Peter grumbled.

Neal didn't like admitting that he always had his lock pick set on him, but it was obvious that Peter already knew. Slipping the small leather case out of an inner pocket of his jacket Neal knelt down next to the simple pad lock. In about the same time as it would have taken to use a key Neal had the lock open.

Opening the storage unit revealed a large gilded box raised up off the floor by a pair of two by fours. The box was in the middle of a small clearing in the unit, the rest of which was packed from floor to ceiling with various items. It was like a smaller version of Josephine's warehouse. Neal looked over at Josephine and saw that her fingers were moving again. She was nervous about having her pathological hoarding disorder exposed.

"It's okay, Josephine." Neal said gently. "I know you can't help yourself."

Josephine crossed her arms over her stomach and stared down at the ground. Neal wanted to help her, but he wasn't sure how.

Peter walked up to the ornate crate and looked down on it with his left hand on his hip and his right held awkwardly to the side. Neal joined him, slipping his hands into his pockets. There was nothing about it that immediately caught Peter or Neal's attention. It was about five feet long and two feet wide and high. The artwork was spectacular, however it had the feel of having been mass produced. Peter ran his uninjured hand over the hieroglyphs carved into the top.

"What does it say?" Peter asked.

"Nothing." Neal shrugged. "It's just gibberish, random hieroglyphs."

"I told you it's reproduction." Josephine said. "It's nothing special."

"It must be or Harker wouldn't want it so badly."

"He may not even want it," Neal pointed out "he may just want it destroyed. He probably tried looking through Josephine's warehouse for it and when he couldn't find it he decided to kill two birds with one stone and set the fire trap."

"That still doesn't explain why it is worth so much trouble."

Neal circled the wooden crate a few times. It was made of multiple boards rather than a solid piece, however, it had no obvious way of opening it. It looked like it was designed to be under a piece of glass as a coffee table. Trying to lift it at one end he found it surprisingly heavy. Neal reached out and knocked on the wood to see if it was hollow, it sounded solid.

"Do that again." Peter said in a tone that suggested he'd noticed something.

Without asking why Neal reached out and knocked on the crate again. Peter knelt down and dabbed at some of the white powder that had rattled free from one of the cracks in the wood. He carefully brought it up to his face and sniffed at it. Unable to identify it he risked touching it to the tip of his tongue. Jerking his hand away he violently spit a few times.

"Drugs?" Neal asked.

"No." Peter sighed. "It's Quicklime."

"That's not good."

"Wha...what does that mean?" Josephine asked nervously.

"It means there is probably a body hidden inside."

Josephine gasped sharply as her eye widened in horror. While Peter called for a forensics team she paced back and forth a few steps in front of the once prized possession. Neal stepped up to her and put his hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her. Stopping her pacing Josephine smiled sadly and put her hand over his. She braved stepping closer and gently ran her fingertips along the edge of the wooden box. Josephine bowed her head and began a soft chant of some sort. When she was done she rested her hand lovingly on the box and sighed heavily.

"Josephine?"

"It always did feel like it had a soul..."


	22. The Dragon

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty: The Dragon

"I can't watch this, I can't...please," Josephine fretted in panic "please I can't see, I don't want to see. I...I..."

"Josephine," Peter interrupted "why don't you go wait in the car?"

"Thank you, Agent Burke, thank you."

Peter reached into his jacket pocket and pressed the button on his key fob that automatically unlocked his car. He had moved the car down a few hundred feet to make room for the parade of forensics, local police, violent crime Agents, and the rest of circus that came along with uncovering a body. There were about a dozen people crowded around now with several vehicles that had flashing lights. Josephine looked more than a little overwhelmed by it all and near tears.

Upon hearing Peter's offer Josephine threw her arms around him in a grateful and powerful embrace. Gasping in shock Peter put his arms out to keep his hands as far from Josephine's curved body as possible. Neal chuckled at Peter's look of horror as his attacker pressed herself harder against him.

"No, no...no hugging. I don't hug." Peter protested uncomfortably. "You need to hug someone, hug Neal."

"Don't drag me into thi..."

Neal was knocked breathless as Josephine took Peter's advice and threw herself against his chest. Staggering a few steps back Neal was forced to pry Josephine off. Everyone was starting at the odd display that would have been inappropriate even if there wasn't a dead body six feet away. Josephine kissed Neal's cheek and bolted for Peter's car. She got into the back seat and disappeared as she laid down. Peter walked up beside Neal and shook his head sadly.

"Neal, for your sake I hope 'crazy' isn't sexually transmitted."

"I didn't sleep with her." Neal insisted.

"You're getting worse at lying."

"Peter, I'm not ly..."

"Agent Burke," one of the forensic techs called "we've got the trace evidence off the crate, we're about to open it."

"Be careful," Peter replied as he turned his attention to the task at hand "Quicklime is highly caustic."

This was information that the forensic tech clearly knew already. He offered Neal and Peter paper face masks and put one on himself. Neal watched with a knot in his stomach as two of the techs began to pry open the crate. He didn't like corpses, and from the way Peter was standing back it was clear that he'd gone into White Collar to avoid situations just like this one.

The crate was not interested in giving up it secrets easily. The well constructed box creaked and groaned as the men used pry bars to break the top off. The top plank suddenly gave way and a dangerous cloud of Quicklime was released. Neal reared back and threw his arm over his eyes as the toxic cloud stung his senses.

"Everyone back!" Peter barked.

The techs coughed and sputtered as they retreated. There was a brief period of chaos while the Quicklime settled down. The techs admitted that they didn't think the board was going to snap off so violently. When the caustic dust settled they brought in a hepa vacuum and began collecting the top layer of powder.

It wasn't long before the body encased in the Quicklime was exposed. Neal took a further step back at the sight. The Quicklime had desiccated the body and stopped some of the decomposition. The skin had been eaten away in some places and dried in others. The resulting corpse looked like a poorly preserved Egyptian mummy. The tangle of long blonde hair matted on the skull pointed towards the victim being a woman. The forensic expert stepped in with a pair of gloves and gingerly touched at part of the exposed bone on the forehead.

"Agent Burke, this is not a recent murder. The amount of damage the lime has done to the bone gives a time of death between fifteen to twenty years ago."

"At least we know Josephine didn't kill her." Neal said.

"Take this whole thing back to the lab." Peter ordered. "I need to know who she is and how she died as quickly as possible. Not a word to the press. We have a suspect already and if he gets spooked he's gone."

"Yes, Sir." The forensic expert nodded.

Peter dealt with the local cops and signed their reports while the forensics packaged up the crate along with the body. The violent crimes Agents offered their support, but they were more than happy to leave a cold case in the hands of Peter. While everyone else was busy Neal took a more careful look at the treasures that Josephine had collected here.

The stuff here was of lower quality than what was stored at the warehouse. Neal wondered why she had kept the crate here if she loved it so much considering that it was surrounded by mostly worthless reproductions. Neal started picking through a stack of canvas prints leaning against the far wall. Going past one of the paintings he stopped and went back and looked at it more closely.

"It can't be..."

There were very few times in Neal's life when his jaw dropped open in shock, this was one of those times. Absolutely hypnotized Neal stared at the painting in his hand. He brushed the surface to make sure that he was truly seeing it. The feel of the strokes was unmistakable, they sent a chill over his skin. Motionless Neal couldn't take his eyes away, he didn't even notice Peter calling his name until he came to stand next to him.

"Neal? What are you looking at?"

"A masterpiece." Neal breathed in pure awe.

"Another forgery?" Peter asked.

"No forgery this time, Peter. This is the real thing."

"Are you sure?"

"I would recognize it anywhere."

Neal stood with Raphael's 'Saint George and the Dragon' in his hands. It had been Kate's favorite painting. When he lost her after his trip to Europe he had risked everything to steal it in a desperate attempt to get her attention. While he was in prison someone had discovered it in one of his many stashes and stolen it from him. Peter looked the painting over critically.

"Isn't this that painting that Sarah kept insisting you stole?" Peter asked.

"Yes it is."

"Did you?"

"Nice try, Peter." Neal muttered as he continued to stare.

"Are you crying?"

"Wha...what?" Neal reached up and brushed the back of his hand against his cheeks to remove the tears. "My eyes are watering from the Quicklime."

"If that's real Josephine has a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

"We shouldn't tip our hand on it just yet, we might still need her help."

"We can't just leave it here." Peter said.

"Have the Agent from violent crimes take it back."

"Neal, everyone is gone. You've been staring at that for half an hour."

"Oh...I...I didn't even realized."

"We'll put it in the trunk and take it back with us."

"Okay." Neal nodded, still feeling a little dazed.

Holding the priceless painting lovingly Neal followed Peter out of the storage unit. He didn't even realize that Peter had stopped short. Finally turning his attention back to the world around him Neal noticed that there were far more alone than they should be. The once busy self storage unit was completely abandoned. It was late at night and the mercury vapor lamps cast a yellow glow on everything. Peter's car was nowhere in sight. Neal looked over as Peter searched his pockets for his keys. Neal already knew what had happened to them but decided against saying anything.

"Neal, did...did your girlfriend steal my car?" Peter asked icily.

"She not my girlfriend."

"Neal!"

"Peter, calm down."

"Calm down?" Peter hissed. "Beyond the fact that we lost a suspect, my weapon is in the lock box in that car, and she has the key!"

"What? You don't have it on you?"

"I can't use it with my hand injury, but regulation says I can't do field work without it. So when you called I put it in the car."

"It will be okay."

"If she shoots someone with my gun I'm out of a job and you're going back to prison. Hell, we might *both* be going to prison!"

"I call the top bunk."

Speechless with anger and frustration Peter closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment to compose himself.

"I know where she's going." Neal offered.

"Where?"

"She's going straight to Harker to blackmail him for this."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive. This painting is the real reason she was so reluctant to lead us here, but she knew that she'd never be safe if Harker wasn't locked away. She'll need cash fast, and she knows he has it, and now she knows his secret."

"Alright, I'll call it in. We'll get some Agents to cover Harker and Diana can come pick us up. You'd better be right about this."

"I am." Neal said confidently.

Peter reached into his pocket to get his phone and found it empty. He looked up at Neal with a murderous glare. Neal was suddenly grateful that Peter didn't have his gun on him.

"I'll call." Neal offered helpfully.

Neal carefully handed Peter the painting and reached into his pocket. When he didn't find his phone where it normally was he searched his other pockets. He knew the instant that he didn't find it that Josephine had picked his pocket as well, but he looked in the others anyway, praying it was there. It wasn't. Neal flashed Peter a sheepish smile.

"Unbelievable." Peter growled.

"In my defense her hugs are very distracting..."


	23. Desire

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-one

"Why can't we have nice things in this city?"

Growling in frustration Peter hung up the pay phone once he realized that the cord had been ripped out of the bottom of the machine. They had walked over a mile through the deserted midnight warehouse district in search of a pay phone. They'd come across two of them so far, but both had been broken. Choiceless they continued their search for help on foot.

Still clutching the multi million dollar painting Neal looked around nervously. Far from his usual Upper Manhattan hang out Neal was feeling extremely out of place wearing a nice suit carrying around a Raphael. Most of the buildings in this area were condemned. There didn't appear to be anyone around the dirty streets other than the occasional sleeping homeless person. What made Neal nervous was the fact that at any moment they could find themselves with company.

"We are going to get killed out here." Neal pointed out.

"Neal, no one around here knows what that painting is worth."

"I know, we're going to get beaten to death on general principle."

"I'm still a Federal Agent."

"Yeah, one without a gun." Neal said morosely. "People get murdered every day in New York for wandering down the wrong alley."

"That's not even remotely true."

"You're right, 464 people were murdered in New York last year. So that's more than one a day. Which is perfect since there are two of us."

Peter just shook his head and refused to engage in the conversation further. Neal noticed with concern that the further they walked the more pronounced Peter's limp was becoming. Watching him carefully Neal was able to reach out in time and keep Peter from falling when he suddenly stumbled. Cursing under his breath Peter kept walking.

"Peter, do we need to stop and rest?"

"Josephine has at least an hour head start, maybe more depending on when exactly she took off. We need to get to her before she gets to Harker."

"It's probably too late already."

"There is a GPS tracker in my car, if we can get a hold of Diana she can track down Josephine."

"I'm fairly certain Josephine will assume that your car is tracked and will have changed cars by now. That's what I'd do."

Peter shot Neal another murderous glare. Neal smiled apologetically. Looking defeated Peter continued to limp down the empty street. Falling silent Neal walked at a slow pace along side Peter while keeping a sharp eye out for potential threats. At Peter's reduced speed it took another twenty minutes before they spotted a cross street that had some cars going by. Reaching into his breast pocket for his badge Peter made his way towards the traffic with renewed determination.

"Are we going to commandeer a vehicle?" Neal asked excited. "I've always wanted to do that. You know...legally."

"Stop talking." Peter growled. "You are not to speak unless spoken to until further notice."

"Pete..."

"No, quiet, I mean it."

Peter watched Neal for a second to ensure that he was going to stay quiet. Satisfied that he was muzzled for the moment Peter scanned waited for a car to approach. Spotting a small car he stepped out in front of it with his badge held high. The driver saw Peter and swerved around him before speeding up to drive off into the night.

"Peter, this is probably a really good way to get run over...or shot."

"Did I speak to you?" Peter asked seriously.

With a disgruntled look Neal audibly snapped his jaw shut. Three more cars did their best to avoid Peter before one finally stopped. Peter walked up to the driver's side and let the young man inside get a closer look at his badge. Neal trotted over to join Peter as the man rolled down his window.

"My name is Special Agent Peter Burke."

"Ar...are you commandeering my car?" The driver asked nervously.

"Yes." Neal smiled.

"No." Peter corrected. "I'm a Federal Agent in need, politely asking for assistance in the form of a ride."

"Um...okay."

Peter gave the driver a silent order to move over into the passenger side. Neal quickly got into the back seat in case Peter was angry with him enough to leave him behind. Peter threw the car into gear and tore off. The owner of the car looked like he was about to pass out. He looked over his shoulder at Neal nervously. Neal flashed him his most reassuring smile.

"Nice painting."

"Thanks. It's a Raphael."

Peter glared at Neal through the rear view mirror.

"What?" Neal asked innocently. "I was spoken to."

"Do you have a cell phone?" Peter asked the driver.

"Yeah."

The driver dug into his pant's pocket and handed Peter his cell phone. Peter took the phone and dialed Diana.

"Agent Berrigan." Diana answered.

"Diana..."

"Peter!" Diana exclaimed in relief. "Are you okay? Where are you? We've been calling for half an hour. Is Neal with you?"

"We're fine. Josephine took off with my car and cell phone."

"We just found your car abandoned a few miles from the self storage."

"Did you check the lock box?"

"No. Agent Toffle is processing your car. I can call her."

"No, I will. Neal thinks she's headed for Harker and that she probably stole another car. Get some Agent's over there. She may be armed and she is certainly dangerous."

"Already on it, Boss." Diana said. "When we couldn't get a hold of you we figured something was up. I just arrived back at the self storage looking for you, and Jones is over at Harker's."

"And?"

"Jones only got to Harker's about ten minutes ago. Harker claims that Josephine hadn't been there, but he wasn't sleeping when Jones arrived and he said Harker seemed riled. He offered him protection, but Harker refused."

"Tell Jones to sit on him for now and arrange for someone to relieve him in a few hours. I want to know where Harker is at all times."

"Got it."

"Put an all point out on Josephine with the local LEOs, and then go home and get some sleep. Forensics won't have anything until morning, and we're not going to catch Josephine tonight."

"I don't think we'll see Josephine again." Neal said.

"She didn't kill Harker and that's all I care about right now."

"I told you, Peter, she's not a murderer."

"Man," the driver said with a nervous laugh "this is just like the movies."

Peter stared coldly at the driver causing him to fall silent again. Neal couldn't blame Peter for being in such a bad mood, but he did feel sorry for the poor driver of the car. Driving towards his home Peter called the Agent that had his car to see if his weapon was in the lock box. Neal could tell by the way Peter tensed that Josephine had taken it with her.

Arriving at the house Peter thanked the driver and gave him back his cell phone. Looking a little disappointed that the adventure was over the driver left. Elizabeth was waiting up for them and embraced Peter in relief. He returned the affection and then practically collapsed on the couch. Elizabeth looked at Neal accusingly.

"I'm sorry." Neal apologized automatically.

"Dare I even ask about the painting?"

"It's a long story." Neal said as he put the painting on the mantel. "It looks good there."

"I'll go get you a blanket." Elizabeth offered. "I get the feeling you'll be sleeping on our couch tonight."

"I think Peter beat me to it."

Elizabeth looked at Peter who was sitting on the couch with his head back. He was sound asleep. Elizabeth went and got a few blankets and a pillows. While she was gone Neal carefully helped Peter lay down on his side without waking him. Neal pulled up Peter's pant leg to get a look at the injury. The burn was bandaged, but crimson blood outlined in yellow lymph had seeped and soaked through.

"He hasn't slept much since you got sick." Elizabeth said quietly as she returned.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. In a lot of ways you've been good for him."

Neal looked at Elizabeth quizzically, but she didn't explain herself any further. She had a kit from the hospital for changing the dressing around Peter's leg. He was so exhausted that he didn't even wake as Neal helped her changed the ruined bandage. There was far more damage than Neal had thought, but it cleaned well. When they were done Elizabeth covered Peter in one of the blankets and kissed his forehead.

"I'm going to sleep out here," Elizabeth said "you can sleep in our bed if you'd like."

"No. I'll be okay on the floor."

"Are you sure?"

Neal nodded and took the pillow and blanket that Elizabeth offered him. Elizabeth curled up on the couch with Peter. Even in his deep sleep he readjusted to give her more room and draped his arm over her. Elizabeth looked like she hadn't slept much lately either and quickly dozed off.

Taking the blanket over to the other side of the coffee table Neal took off his jacket and tie and settled down on the floor. Satchmo came up and laid down next to Neal with a brief tail wag. Neal smiled and rubbed between the lab's large ears. Unable to sleep Neal stared up at the Raphael sitting unprotected on the mantle. With his anklet still set on 'roam' and with everything happening with Josephine and Harker Neal knew he'd have a good head start if he decided to bolt now. The painting would easily fetch ten million and Mozzie's help was only a phone call away.

Neal laid awake and planed a near flawless escape in his head. He could be in Europe by morning. Curled up on the floor Neal could hear Peter and Elizabeth breathing slowly in their peaceful slumber. Still staring at the painting Neal suddenly realized that he had no desire to steal it. Closing his eyes Neal reached out and stroked Satchmo's soft fur.

"Can I tell you a secret, Satchmo?"

Satchmo wagged his tail against the floor in response.

"I never thought I'd live to see this day..."


	24. Size Matters

NOTE from Phoenix: I am not a 'gun person', so forgive me if I made any gun mistakes. I did about an hour's worth of gun research on the internet (thank you Wikipedia) to write this chapter. The rest I learned from NCIS. To give you an idea of how I write, I knew I wanted Harker to be a tunnel rat and in my research I found that they tended to use smaller Russian pistols. So I started to research the pistol and it was what I learned that gave me the idea for how to deal with this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>White Collar: Knock on Wood<p>

Chapter Twenty-two: Size Matters

Peter woke just as the first rays of dawn were infiltrating the living room. Pulling Elizabeth closer he nuzzled the back of her neck. He hated making her worry they way she must have last night, but she always insisted that she knew it came with the territory of his job. His left arm was numb from laying on his side on the couch all night. Peter was a little fearful to find out what his lower back thought about his decision to sleep on the couch.

Doing his best not to wake his wife Peter sat up. Melting into the newly available space Elizabeth settled deeper into sleep. Peter pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. Feeling a little disoriented Peter looked around. At first he was a little confused to find Neal curled up on the floor fast asleep. Satchmo was laying with his back against Neal's softly twitching his paws as he chased something in his dreams.

Peter watched Neal sleeping, fascinated by how peaceful and still he was. Peter had always assumed that Neal would be a restless sleeper. He figured with all the nights spent on the run, all the enemies he'd made, and all the secrets he had to constantly guard that Neal's conscious would plague him at night. However that didn't seem to be the case at all. As Neal slept a slight smile twitched the corner of his mouth from some pleasant dream.

Getting to his feet Peter caught sight of the Raphael sitting on his mantel. Peter looked at the painting, but he couldn't manage to be as awestruck by it as Neal had been. Looking from the painting and then back down at Neal he had a sudden realization. Neal Caffrey had spent an entire night ten feet away from an unguarded masterpiece worth a small fortune and he hadn't even tried to steal it.

"I never thought I'd live to see this day." Peter smiled.

Neal fluttered his eyes open at the sound of Peter's voice. He rolled over onto his back and stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam. He looked up at Peter with a smile.

"You're up early." Neal noted.

"I'm always up early. You're the one who strolls into the office at nine."

"Good point." Neal smiled. "I'm starving, this is no way to treat a prisoner or even a house guest. You making me breakfast or what?"

Neal laughed as Peter reached down and yanked the pillow out from under his head and went to smother him with it. Satchmo jumped up to join in the game and chomped down on the pillow to start a tug-a-war. Neal sat up and stretched the kinks out of his back while Peter tried to get the pillow away from Satchmo without ripping it.

"It's too early for rough housing, Boys." Elizabeth grumbled from under the blanket.

"Sorry, Hon." Peter apologized. "Come on, Neal, we should get to the office. We'll pick up something to eat on the way."

"You don't have a car." Neal pointed out.

"Honey..."

"My keys are in my purse." Elizabeth sighed.

Getting to his feet Neal slipped on his jacket and neatly folded his tie so he could put in his pocket. Peter got Elizabeth's keys, he was already fully dressed from the previous night. Neal went to the mantle and studied the painting in the morning light for a moment before carefully picking it up and following Peter out to Elizabeth's car. Once in the car Peter started off towards the office.

"I have to admit, Neal, I'm proud that you didn't try to take off with the Raphael."

"I was too tired last night for crime." Neal shrugged.

"Right."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it."

"At least you're learning to control those criminal impulses of yours."

"Don't read too much into it." Neal said slightly annoyed. "Like I said, I was tired. It takes a lot of work to be on the run."

"I believe you."

Peter smiled slightly at the way Neal's feathers always got ruffled any time he pointed out that he wasn't the same reckless criminal that he once was. It was practically an insult to Neal to tell him he'd made a good decision. Changing the subject Neal pointed out that he hadn't been kidding about being hungry.

After grabbing a bite to eat they continued to the office. It was early in the morning and Neal was surprised to see how many people were already there. He had always thought that Peter was exaggerating when he said that the office started work at seven am. It sounded like an unholy hour to start work.

"Boss." Diana greeted. "I have the boys bringing up the forensics report now."

"I just got off the phone with Agent Toffle who is watching Harker." Jones reported. "Harker got up and went to work as usual. Toffle is still watching him."

"That's amazing." Neal said.

"What? That Harker would go to work?"

"No, that Jones and Diana are so on top of everything. I'm thinking there's no reason not to go catch a few more hours sleep. They've got it all under control."

"I can think of a reason." Peter said threateningly.

Neal put his hands up in surrender. Peter narrowed his eyes in irritation and went to say something, however an Agent from forensics approached with a file and distracted him. Peter took the file and head straight for the conference room. Neal, Diana, and Jones followed.

"Do we have a name on the woman?" Neal asked.

"No." Peter said as he skimmed the report. "She was young, between fifteen and eighteen. One shot to the back of the head, angle suggest she was on her knees with her assailant standing."

"Execution style." Neal noted sadly. "Why would anyone execute a teenager?"

"This might have something to do with it," Peter said as he flipped the page "she was pregnant, five to six months along. There is evidence of a gun shot wound to the stomach, however there is a lot of damage from the Quicklime so they can't be one hundred percent sure."

"Someone shot her and then the baby?" Diana asked in horror. "That's just sick."

"Were any bullets recovered?"

"One. Since this is technically a cold case were are at the bottom of the list at the moment for Ballistics to give it a hard look, with the amount of gun crime they see daily it could be weeks before we get something solid. All we know is that it's a 9mm for sure, but it shows unusual damage."

Peter gave the photos of the bullet found to Neal. The bullet had some odd dents and gashes in it. It didn't show the smooth groves that allowed ballistics to match a fired round to a specific gun. Diana reached over and took the photos away from Neal. She looked at them for a second before putting them down.

"This is what happens when you use the wrong caliber round." Diana said confidently. "This round was slightly too small for the barrel."

"What gun would 'almost' fit a 9mm?" Peter asked.

"How about a Russian Makarov PM?" Neal offered.

"That would make sense." Diana nodded. "The Russian Makarov PM takes a 9x18mm round, which is actually a 9.22 mm around."

"Why make a gun that fires a 9.22 round?" Peter asked.

"The Soviet military wanted their ammunition to be incompatible with NATO firearms." Jones explained. "That way if a foreign power captured their ammunition they wouldn't be able to use it."

"Smart." Peter nodded. "A Russian gun...Neal, didn't you notice a Russian pistol in Harker's office?"

"A Makarov PM." Neal confirmed. "But why wouldn't he just use the Makarov round?"

"Twenty years ago the 9x18mm rounds were hard to get in America without special order." Diana replied. "If Harker was in a rush to use the gun and didn't want to draw attention by special ordering Makarov rounds he could have used common .380 ACP 9mm rounds. It would work, although it would give some gas blow back, and wouldn't be as accurate."

"It wouldn't have to be accurate," Peter said with distain "his victim was on her knees at point blank."

"Peter," Neal smiled "we got him."

"I can't believe that bastard has been keeping the murder weapon on display."

"If it was his weapon in the War," Jones said "he will have an emotional attachment to it."

"I can get a warrant in ten minutes and we can get that gun for ballistics."

"That might be a problem." Diana said. "The ballistic will be hard to match because the smaller round fires somewhat randomly from the larger barrel. You won't get a nice perfect match the way you do with a gun firing the right ammo. Although the Makarov will have unmistakable damage from 9mm rounds."

"That may not be good enough." Peter sighed. "Without a perfect ballistics match on a twenty year old case the prosecution will have more than enough to work with to get 'reasonable doubt'."

"What do we do?" Neal asked.

"There is more to this story. There must be something to link Richards, Harker, Josephine, and this woman. Let's go rattle Harker's cage. Animals like him are more likely to make a mistake when cornered."

"Aren't animals also most dangerous when cornered?" Neal pointed out. "It's pretty clear that Harker has already tried to kill us once."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." Peter said seriously. "Are you coming with me?"

"Of course."


	25. Truth and Consequence

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-three: Truth and Consequence

"Peter, I just wanted to say 'thank you'."

"For what?"

"For not telling Diana and Jones about the Raphael and just sending it to Art Crimes. If they knew I had a Raphael in my hands I would never heard the end of it."

"You forget something, Neal."

"What's that?"

"I'd never hear the end of it either."

Neal chuckled, he hadn't thought of aspect. Peter had retrieved his car from the evidence lot and they were currently driving towards Harker's office. Neal had a plan that Peter had been hesitant to go along with at first, but he didn't have any better ideas himself so he agreed to it.

Arriving at Harker's office they found him once again in deep negotiations with a client. Looking up at Peter and Neal he sighed heavily. He politely asked the two men he'd been talking to leave. Neal said nothing he simply held his hands behind his back and stared at Harker. With a somber expression Peter stepped up to Harker's desk and gently set a deep red card in an evidence bag down on the mahogany.

"What's this?" Harker demanded.

"Read it." Neal suggested.

Harker narrowed his eyes at Neal in defiance. He licked his lips nervously and picked up a dark red card in the bag. He flipped the card over to the illustration side and the color drained from his face. The card held a beautiful young woman wearing a crown. She held a scepter in one hand and she cradled her expanded pregnant stomach with the other. Harker stared at the card, transfixed by the image.

"'The Empress'." Neal explained. "The Great Mother, creator of life, art, business..."

"Did the witch give this to you?" Harker whispered.

"She gave us more than just the card." Peter said.

Harker stared at the card before looking over his shoulder at the Makarov in its glass case. He licked his lips nervously before getting to his feet. Peter automatically tensed, ready for a fight. However, Neal didn't see any fight left in Harker. Upon seeing the card he had become almost listless. He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a scotch. Staring out the window at the city Harker took a deep pull of the amber liquid.

"It's over, Harker." Peter said softly. "I have a warrant for your weap..."

"Richards isn't the only one who hears her. I hear her every night." Harker interrupted. "For years I beg him to get rid of her...then one day he did. Right into the hands of that crazy gypsy. I should have known it was over the moment I saw her."

Peter glanced over a Neal with an expression of surprise. Neal did his best to hide it, but he was shocked that Harker was confessing so easily. Harker looked down at the scotch he was drinking and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he looked to Neal with a silent plea for forgiveness, something Neal wasn't willing to give. Harker saw the ice in Neal's eyes and nodded in understanding.

"I don't know why after all this time Richards started to lose it." Harker said. He wiped the back of hand across his forehead to remove the sweat that was starting to bead. "He kept telling me the gypsy had cursed him for what we had done, near the end I started to believe him. Maybe it is true, maybe we are cursed...we certainly deserve it. I should have tried harder to help Richards, a man shouldn't take a secret like that to the grave."

Neal furrowed his brow in confusion. Peter wasn't fully following Harker's rambling confession either.

"Mr. Harker, the woman in the box, what was her name?" Peter asked.

"I don't know. She called herself 'Tawny', but I'm sure that was just her street name."

"She was a prostitute?" Neal asked in surprise. "Forensics puts her age between fifteen and eighteen."

"Sixteen." Harker sighed. "Richards really messed up with that one. I told you he had weaknesses. We were just starting the company when she came in screaming at Richards about going to the cops, demanding money."

"So you killed her?"

"Richards shot her." Harker said firmly. "We tried paying her off at first, but she just kept coming back. She was ruining us, she was going to destroy everything we had. One night Richards snapped and he struck her, hard. He tried to apologize, but she started demanding more and more money. It didn't take long to figure out that most of the money was fueling her cocaine habit that was making her crazier and doing God knows what to the baby."

"Don't do that." Neal growled. "Don't try to justify what you did by criminalizing her."

"You're right." Harker admitted meekly. "There is no excuse. We made the decision together to get rid of her. I wanted it to be quick so we used my Makarov. Once it was done Richards suddenly decided that he didn't want to just dump the body, he wanted to keep her close. She's haunted us every day since then, probably the main reason Richards became so engrossed in the occult."

"Why did you shoot her in the stomach?" Neal pressed.

What little color was left drained from Harker's face. He was sweating profusely at this point, and now he was visibly shaking. He drained the last of scotch before answering in a hoarse whisper. His eyes had lost their focus as he recalled the horrors of the past.

"I did that." Harker whimpered. "When we were moving her body I felt the baby kick. I couldn't just let it die slowly in his slaughtered mother."

Neal's stomach turned at the thought. Peter had taken a step away and was looking at Harker without pity despite the tears that slipped down the older man's face. Having heard enough Peter pulled the handcuff out of his back pocket and approached Harker. Harker offered no resistance and held out his wrists. Neal watched as Peter took the broken man into custody. Looking at Harker he found more questions than answers.

"Wait...I don't understand." Neal said. "When you found out that Richards had given Josephine the remains why didn't you just kill her?"

"I was going to. I went to her to offer her a large sum of money for the crate, and I was going to kill her if she said no, or if she knew what was inside."

"She didn't give you the crate, so why is she still alive?"

"I couldn't stand the thought of any more blood on my hands."

"That didn't stop you from trying to kill us." Peter growled.

"What are you talking about?" Harker asked with genuine confusion.

"You poisoned my partner and set a trap to kill me in a fire storm to cover your tracks."

"What? No." Harker shook his head. "No. I would never leave someone to die in a fire. I don't know who tried to kill you, but it wasn't me."

"Why should we believe you?" Peter asked darkly.

"Because that pain you're in, I've been there." Harker gestured over to the wall where a Purple Heart Medal was displayed. "I got that when I got caught in a fire trap in one of the tunnels. I sustained burns to nearly forty percent of my body, I would never subject anyone to that kind of pain. Never."

Neal could see Peter trying to decide if Harker was telling the truth or not. Harker's condition was deteriorating quickly as he became more panicked. He was panting for breath and sweating through his shirt. When Harker started clenching his left hand into a fist Peter pressed his fingertips against Harker's throat. Peter quickly guided Harker over to the leather couch and sat him down.

"Neal, call 911." Peter ordered.

"Wha...what's happening?" Harker asked fearfully.

"Just try to calm down." Peter said as he loosened Harker's tie. "Deep breaths."

Neal still didn't have a cell phone so he reached over to Harker's phone and dialed 911. Peter took the handcuffs off Harker as he started convulsing. Neal gave the paramedics directions to Harker's office and came over to help Peter. Harker's eyes rolled back to white as he passed out. Peter searched for a pulse again and swore under his breath when it didn't find one.

"Help me get him on the floor, he's not breathing."

Neal stepped in and hauled Harker off the couch and eased him onto the floor. Peter automatically tried to start CPR, however the burn wound in the palm of his hand lanced pain up his arm. Neal pushed Peter aside and started chest compressions. Pink froth rose to Harker's parted lips every time Neal pressed down on his ribs.

"Neal, stop." Peter sighed. "There's no point, he's gone."

Neal sat back on his heels and looked down on Harker. The blood tinged froth that marred his lips dripped down onto the white carpet. Not used to dealing with death Neal dragged his hands through his hair nervously.

"Do you think the stress of being caught cause a heart attack?" Neal asked.

"Maybe." Peter said as he looked over at the open bottle of scotch that Harker had been drinking from. "Maybe not."

Neal's blood chilled at the thought that Harker had been poisoned while they were standing here. Suddenly having a thought Neal reached down and untucked Harker's shirt and started unbuttoning it.

"Neal, what the hell are you doing?"

"I want to see if he was telling the truth about the burns."

Opening Harker's shirt revealed that his abdomen was covered in a characteristic hypertrophic scaring caused by sever burns. Peter swore under his breath some more and paced back and forth a few steps in frustration.

"We need to find Josephine."

"Peter, I don't think she did this."

"I don't care, either way she's the center of this storm and I want her found."


	26. Nightshade

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-four: Nightshade

Neal sat in one of the conference room chairs leaning back with his feet up on the table. Tilting his head back he threw the rubber band ball up in the air and caught it again. He wasn't sure how long he'd been throwing and catching the office curio. If it seemed like hours it was because it was. They were waiting on the autopsy and toxicology report. Unlike on CSI the test results didn't show up in a neat file in the spans of a commercial break.

"Neal," Peter said in a weary tone "get your feet off the table."

"I'm so bored."

"That's no excuse for poor manners."

Neal rolled his eyes as he took his feet down off the large table. He perked up when he noticed that Peter was holding a file. Peter sat down and opened the folder and started reading the contents. Neal waited impatiently for Peter to share what he was learning.

"If you think you're reading that out loud...you're not." Neal pointed out.

"The scotch wasn't poisoned, neither was the glass."

"So we gave him the heart attack?" Neal asked doubtfully.

"No...well sort of. Harker was poisoned, but hours before we talked to him. He had traces of Atropa belladonna in his system."

"Deadly Nightshade?"

"That's right. The Nightshade disrupted his parasympathetic nervous system. Under the stress of the confession and arrest his heart rate began to race out of control. According to this the atropine in the Nightshade blocked the vagus nerve which is responsible for reducing heart rate."

"Like a run away train his heart just kept going faster until it derailed."

"Massive heart failure was the ultimate cause of death." Peter confirmed.

"Nightshade, another deadly plant." Neal noted. "Botany seems to be our killer's strong suit."

"Neal..." Peter said carefully "you do realize that with the timing of Harker's poisoning it brings Josephine back to the top of the list of suspects."

"I know." Neal sighed. "I just can't believe that it was her. She treated your burns with such genuine compassion, she stole my Federal ID so that she could turn it into a lucky charm for me. She helped Mozzie clean my apartment, does that sound like the actions of a cold blooded murderess?"

"She's a con artist, Neal."

"So am I, it doesn't mean either of us are killers."

"No, but it does mean that she'd be highly skilled at hiding her true nature."

"She can't be that good."

"You mean she can't be better than you?" Peter corrected.

"This isn't about pride, Peter. It's about finding a murderer."

"I agree. But innocent or guilty of murder Josephine still needs to be found."

"I don't even know where to start." Neal admitted.

"Where would you go if you were her?"

"That would depend on how much money I had, what kind of ID I was carrying, whether or not I had any friends left."

"For this exercise let's say you didn't have any of those things."

"I'm on my own and I can't trust anyone?"

"Exactly."

"That's a scary thought." Neal said seriously. "I'd want to go somewhere that I felt safe."

"Somewhere familiar?"

"Absolutely."

"What about the warehouse?"

"No. It's been compromised. I could be found there." Neal shook his head and became lost in thought. "Josephine is like a squirrel, hiding pockets of treasures all over New York. She had the warehouse and the storage unit, she could have a dozen such places. She'd go to one of them."

"That doesn't really help."

"No...not really."

Peter leafed through the rest of the autopsy report. Still trying to think of where Josephine might go Neal rolled the rubber band ball between his hands on the table. Despite firmly believing that she couldn't have been behind the murders, he still didn't know her well enough to guess her whereabouts.

"Where would you go?" Peter asked suddenly.

"I already told you, I don't have any idea where any of Josephine's other hiding places are."

"No, not Josephine. You, where would you go if you had nothing and no one to turn to?"

"Grand Central Station." Neal answered without hesitation.

"Really?" Peter asked surprised. "You'd go somewhere crowded?"

"If I couldn't trust anyone I knew, I'd need to find a stranger to help me. Grand Central is the perfect place to find a fellow lost soul."

"Poetic, but a poor choice. I'd catch you there in a heartbeat."

"You said I didn't have any friends. I assumed that you were dead for this thought experiment, not that you were chasing me." Neal complained. "What about you? Where would you go?"

"Me? I don't know, I've never really thought about it."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Never hurts to have a 'plan B'." Neal teased.

Peter looked at Neal suspiciously to which Neal responded with a look of practiced pure innocents. The expression never failed to cause Peter to shake his head in disgruntled defeat, and today was no exception.

"What do we do now?" Neal asked.

"Excellent question. I've got the airports, and other major exits to the city covered, local LEOs are on the look out."

"I don't think she'll leave the city."

"Then we have a good chance of catching her, she has to step out in public to get food at some point."

"I had everything delivered when I came back."

"That takes money. Let's dig through Harker and his company's records to see if there is any evidence that he handed over any money to Josephine before Jones got there."

"I forgot that Agents were watching Harker most of the night. That cuts down on the time for a potential poisoner to get to him."

"Another reason Josephine looks more and more guilty."

Neal didn't want to agree with Peter out loud, but he did have a very good point. It took Peter a few hours to request access to Harker's accounts. Once they had them the pair poured over them in hopes of finding something. Long after the sun went down they still had nothing.

"If Harker gave her a large sum of money on short notice he must have had the cash on hand in the house." Neal concluded.

"I agree."

Peter continued to skim through the printed pages as well as the digital files on his laptop. Neal noticed as the afternoon had turned to evening that Peter had started to hold his injured hand closer and closer to his body. He now had it held protectively against his chest. Neal figured that as fatigue set in the constant pain became harder to ignore.

"Peter, we should call it a night. We aren't getting anywhere."

"You're right." Peter admitted. "Come on, I'll give you a ride home."

Neal was tired by the time Peter dropped him off at June's. Having a hard time deciding if he was more tired or more hungry Neal roamed the kitchen looking for something easy to eat for dinner. He found the left over Chinese food from the night before when Josephine had ordered in. Leaning his back against the counter he ate some cold vegetable chow mien directly from the carton.

It wasn't until Neal went in search of the Spanish Rioja that had gone so well with the meal the first time that he noticed the neatly folded note on his kitchen table. Putting down the Chinese food Neal walked over to the table. Picking up the note a small black piece of plastic attached to a silver key ring fell out.

Neal picked up the piece that had fallen and took a closer look at it. His heart rate jumped when he recognized it as the key to his tracking anklet. It took him a moment to realize that Peter must have had it on his car keys when Josephine stole them. The front of the card had an address in the dock district on it, well out of his two mile radius. Opening the card he read the rest of the instructions.

"'Midnight. Come alone or she dies...'."


	27. A Shot in the Dark

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-four: A Shot in the Dark

"If whoever took Josephine doesn't kill me, Peter will."

Muttering to himself Neal made his way on foot towards the meeting place. He felt somewhat naked without his anklet and second guessed his decision to not call Peter for the hundredth time. Neal knew that there would be no way Peter would let him within a thousand yards of this meeting without an entire SWAT team as back up.

"Not too late to turn back."

Neal looked over his shoulder back the way he'd come and hesitated for a moment. It was still half an hour until midnight so he had some time. Standing in a narrow alley between the deserted dock yard buildings the hair on the back of Neal's neck stood on end. He was a few blocks away from the meeting site which would box him in further between the large buildings.

"This is stupid, Neal, bad idea."

Sensing a trap at the end of the bottle neck Neal stopped walking and just stared down the long alley. Reaching in his pocket Neal pulled out a burn phone that he'd picked up along the way. He was half way through dialing Peter's number when the ominous click of a gun being cocked rang out behind him. Neal froze as the gun's cold muzzle pressed against the back of his neck. His attacker nudged him in the back with their free hand in a silent demand that he drop the phone.

Not seeing much point in resisting at this point Neal dropped the phone. The assailant gave him another nudge. Sighing heavily in defeat Neal stepped on the delicate device. A light touch under his right arm caused Neal to raise his hands up peacefully. He stood still while his pockets were invaded.

Switching the gun so that it was pressed against his lower back the attacker ran their hand down the outside of Neal's left leg until they came to his ankle. Neal wasn't surprised that they wanted to check his anklet. What did surprise him was the way they ran their hand up his inseam on the way back up. It wasn't the touch of someone looking for a weapon, it was far too playful.

"Josephine?" Neal asked.

"Start walking or you're dead." A deep voice demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Josephine, I know that's you."

"Damn it." Josephine grumbled in her normal voice.

"Can I turn around now?"

"How did you know?" Josephine asked sounding almost hurt.

"A few things," Neal replied as he put his hands down and turned around "but mostly it was the fact that professional killers don't tend to smell like jasmine and gardenias."

"Of course." Josephine smiled. "Thank you for coming for me."

"You set this all up, you wrote that note. Peter was right, you really are insane."

"Please, Neal, I need your help. I don't have anyone to turn to." Josephine begged. "I didn't try to kill you or Peter, I swear."

"I believe you." Neal said honestly. "Come back with me. Peter can help us sort this all out."

"No. I can't go to the F.B.I. I'll explain later." Josephine said as she raised Peter's gun once more. "Let's go."

"Go where? What are you doing?"

"Think of it as 'light kidnapping'." Josephine replied.

"No." Neal shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere with you. If you want my help you need to come with me."

"I can't, it isn't safe."

"Then you're on your own."

"Neal..."

Certain that Josephine wasn't going to shoot him Neal walked past her and continued back the way he'd come. His hope was that when given a choice of coming with him or being left on her own that Josephine would change her mind.

"Please don't leav..."

Josephine was cut off by the crack of a single shot. Before Neal could even register that there was danger there was a slice of hot pain that struck the right side of his head. Dropping to his knees Neal pressed his palm against the source of the pain. Fighting not to pass out Neal sat down on the dirty street.

"Neal!" Josephine exclaimed. "Oh my god, I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

Neal couldn't answer the question because he wasn't sure of the answer. The side of his head was throbbing in pain. With his hand pressed against his ear he could feel the hot sticky blood. He was afraid to move his hand to determine the damage in case his hand was the only thing keeping his life and possibly his brains from slipping away.

"Neal!" Josephine cried in panic.

Josephine dropped to her knees next to Neal and tried to pull his hand away from the wound. With his ear still ringing Neal was struggling not to succumb to shock. His need to know how badly hurt he was finally out ranked his fear. Neal took his hand away from his ear and brace himself as he looked at it. His palm was smeared with blood, but not nearly as much as he thought there should be. Confused he reached up and gingerly touched the side of his head, blood dripped from the tip of his ear.

"It's just a nick," Josephine said in relief "but you're bleeding."

"Were you trying to kill me?"

"No, Lord no. I...I thought it was unloaded, I took the bullets out of the clip before I came here."

"It's a semi-automatic weapon." Neal snarled. "That means it automatically loads one into the chamber."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Give me the gun." Neal demanded.

Josephine had to scrambled back a few steps to where she had dropped the gun. Neal took it from her and expertly dismantled it and removed the firing pin. He checked the clip and found that it had been emptied. Placing the pin in one pocket he put Peter's gun in his other pocked. Josephine tried to help him stand, but he refused and got to his feet on his own.

"Neal, I am so sorry."

"It's okay." Neal sighed.

"Come to my place, I can stop the bleeding."

Still a little shell shocked from the close call Neal didn't protest as she lead him back down the alley. Near the intended meeting place was a small car. Josephine unnecessarily helped him into the passenger side. She got into the driver's side, but instead of starting the car she leaned over and loosened Neal's tie so that she could remove it.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't let you know where we're going."

"Really? You just shot me, and I'm the one that can't be trusted?"

"Neal, please understand, if I lose this hiding place I don't have anywhere else to go. Plus I have some things of a not exactly legal nature and despite your past you still work for th..."

"Enough." Neal interrupted.

Neal took the tie away from Josephine and blindfolded himself with it. He rolled his temporarily blinded eyes when he felt Josephine give his cheek a quick kiss. Suddenly exhausted Neal reclined the seat back. He had every intention of memorizing the turns they took, however somewhere along the way he dosed off.

"Neal, wake up. We're here."

Disoriented by the blindfold he reached up to remove it. Josephine gently stopped him, clearly not wanting him to get a look at his surroundings until they were inside. Neal peacefully allowed Josephine to lead him inside and up a flight of stairs. When she pulled the blindfold off Neal found himself standing in a rundown studio apartment. Like every other place that Josephine touched there were antiques everywhere.

"I'm going to get some stuff for your ear. Can I get you a drink?"

"First aid: yes. Drink: no."

Josephine nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. She came back out with a wet towel, some gauze, and a small unlabeled brown glass bottle. Josephine guided Neal over to the couch and had him sit down. He tried not to jerk away from her when she use the wet towel to clean up the grazing wound. She used the gauze to put a pungent oil on the cut that instantly relived the pain.

"Tea tree oil." Josephine explained. "It helps with infection and pain."

Josephine leaned in close and gently blew a cooling breath over his ear. She ran her fingertips down the back of his neck causing his skin to prickle with chill. The tea tree oil felt like ice, but Neal found his cheeks were flushing from the delicate contact. Playing with her prey Josephine kissed his temple and pulled away.

"All better?" Josephine asked.

"Much. Perhaps now we can talk about why you bolted with Peter's car and then lured me here?"

"I felt bad about that. I hope someone was left to give you a ride home."

"In a manner of speaking. Did you go to Harker?"

"Harker?" Josephine repeated in surprise. "No, of course not. That's the first place you would have looked for me."

"Harker is dead."

"What?" Josephine asked in shock. "How?"

"Deadly Nightshade. He was poisoned shortly after you abandoned Peter and I."

"I'm sorry, I just had to get away."

"Why?"

Josephine became visibly nervous. She looked around as though she was afraid someone might be watching or listening to them. Neal put his hand over hers to try and reassure her. Josephine smiled and relaxed.

"I haven't been...completely honest with you."

"Imagine my surprise."

"Don't give me that attitude 'Mr. Nick Halden'." Josephine chided.

"How do you know about Nick?"

"The fingerprint software I have is connected to the F.B.I database."

"Where did you get something like that?"

"My partner got it for me." Josephine admitted.

"Wait...you have a partner?" Neal asked in irritation. "And you didn't think it was important to mention that fact until now?"

"It's not what you think. I've never actually met them. They emailed me one day on a private account. I have no idea how they got it. Anyway, they offer me a kind of 'protection' from the law, send me clients, provide me with fake IDs and accounts, and set me up with art buyers and dealers."

"For a price?"

"A high price. However, they've been worth every penny. We keep a kind of firewall between us by never meeting in person or even speaking on the phone."

"And you think it was your partner that tried to kill Peter and I?"

"I do." Josephine nodded. "I couldn't imagine that it would be him at first since there is no way to connect us. Even if I get caught, he'll stay clean. Or so I thought, but then I realized something."

"I can't wait to hear this."

"Don't be rude. I figured out who my partner might be, or at least what they might be and that's why I got spooked."

"I'm not following."

"Whoever is behind all of this had access to some powerful information. They not only knew about the circumstances under which you and I first met, but they also had access to my tarot cards and warehouse. They knew I was under arrest almost instantly and sent lawyers. They were masters of setting me up. They knew that Peter would break the rules to get into my warehouse in a desperate attempt to find something to save you. So they knew how important you are to him. They got to Harker. The list goes on. They have been one step of you and Peter this whole time. There is only one person who could do all of that and who would be afraid of me turning to you for help."

"Who?"

"Neal, don't you understand?"

"Obviously not."

"My partner must be a dirty F.B.I Agent."

"F.B.I?"

"Most likely in the White Collar division."

"No." Neal shook his head. "I know everyone at White Collar, none of them want me dead...well, maybe a few of them do. However I know for a fact that none of them would hurt Peter. His team loves him."

"Neal, take your emotions out of the equation for a minute. An Agent would have the means, the resources, the motive, everything. They would know that if I ended up murdered that you and Peter wouldn't let it go. Once you guys get a case, you follow it no matter what until it's solved."

"How do you know that?"

"Mozzie told me. Secretly he's proud of your track record. I think he's also a little jealous of how well you and Peter work together."

"I still can't believe that it would be someone from White Collar." Neal said stubbornly. "An electronic relationship leaves traces. Where is your laptop?"

"Destroyed in the fire."

"No. Peter said your computer wasn't there. Evidence returned it to your residence."

"I never returned to my warehouse."

"So now we also have missing evidence..." Neal sighed.

"There aren't a lot of people who could pull that off. Neal, I know you don't want to think you work with a traitor, but my partner and the person who tried to kill yours has to be an Agent."

"Damn it." Neal growled in frustration. "I have to talk to Peter about this."

"I understand."

"Josephine, please, come to Peter with me."

"No." Josephine said stubbornly. "I can't risk going to the F.B.I if it is one of their own."

"We can keep you safe."

"You couldn't protect Harker."

Neal didn't have a good response to that. Josephine was right. So far every move they had made had been countered by someone, someone with a lot of inside information. He was a little annoyed that he hadn't thought of it himself. It was going to be tricky going to Peter with this. Make a decision Neal got to his feet and went over to the door. He picked up his tie from where Josephine had dropped it on the floor and blindfolded himself once again.

"What are you doing?"

"I need you to take me home. Or at least back into my two mile radius."

"Neal, wait..."

"Josephine, if your partner really is an Agent then Peter is still in danger."

"What about you?"

"Without Peter I'm not a threat, I'll be right back in prison. An Agent would know that. They'd also know that he's not going to let this go. Harker must have some connection to both you and your partner."

Although blind Neal could hear Josephine approaching. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. Her intoxicating scent infiltrated his senses.

"Joseph..."

"Please, just stay tonight."

"I need to get home before Peter figures out that I slipped my anklet."

"Please don't go. Even if you don't stay the night, we have a few hours before sunrise." Josephine purred as she moved in closer. "We coul..."

"No." Neal interrupted.

"Come on, it'll be fun. We could both use a litt..."

"No." Neal repeated firmly.

Josephine didn't even seem to hear him and she slipped her hands into his jacket on either side of his ribs. Neal tried to back away, but he was already backed up against the door. Josephine raked her nails down his sides and slipped her hands under the waistband of his pants to rest them on his hips. Before she could become anymore brazen Neal took a hold of her wrists.

"Neal..."

"No." Neal said for a third time with a little less resolve.

"Why not?"

"For starters you shot me."

"You're going to hold that against me? It was just a nic..." Josephine stopped when she saw that she wasn't getting anywhere. "Okay. I understand. I just didn't want to be alone."

"You don't have to be. Stay at my place."

"I wouldn't feel safe. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm going to help you. Peter and I can fix this."

"I believe you."

Josephine lead Neal back down to the car. This time he was able to stay awake and although he got the feeling that they drove in circles for a while Neal had a fairly good idea of where they had come from. Josephine didn't dare risk driving all the way to June's and stopped about a mile from the house. Neal pulled off the blindfold and went to get out of the car. Hesitating he turned back to Josephine.

"I'm not going with you, Neal." Josephine said.

"I know." Neal hesitated, not sure if he really wanted to ask the question on his mind. "Josephine, I need to know something. Where did you get the Raphael painting? St. George and the Dragon."

"I bought it from a woman about four years ago."

"Four years ago." Neal repeated, doing the math wasn't needed, he was in prison at that point.

"Yeah, she was pretty in a vapid sort of way. She was in a hurry and so I got a great price. In fact I always assumed it was a forgery since she sold it so cheap. I didn't care though, I liked it. I was actually goi..."

"Josephine," Neal interrupted "do you remember her name?"

"Um...Loretta Salt...no, Loretta Sal..."

"Loretta Salino."

"That's it. Did you know her?"

"You could say that." Neal said vacantly. "'Loretta Salino' was a character from the 1973 Robert Redford movie 'The Sting'."

"Oh that's right. I love that one, it's a classic."

"Yeah...Kate always did love the classics."


	28. White Lies

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-five

It was barely dawn when Peter was woken by his new cell phone ringing. Still half asleep he reached out with his right hand to grab the phone on the night stand. Peter was jolted awake as he tried to close his injured hand around the phone. Now fully awake he picked up the phone with his left hand and awkwardly opened it.

"Neal, this better be important." Peter grumbled.

"It is, very important. I need you to come over to my place as soon as possible."

"Is Josephine with you?"

"What?" Neal asked in surprise. "No, no she's not here."

"But this is about her."

"It is."

"Alright," Peter yawned "give me half an hour."

"Perfect."

Peter sat up and put his legs over the edge of the bed. Elizabeth reached out and rubbed his lower back. Peter smiled and looked over his shoulder, Elizabeth was still mostly asleep. Getting out of bed he leaned over and kissed her forehead before leaving to get dressed. Once dressed Peter went down stairs and into the kitchen.

Elizabeth had redressed his leg last night and it was feeling okay. However his hand was throbbing angrily. He got out the kit that the hospital had provided him with and pulled out the supplies he needed. Unwrapping his hand Peter inspected the bright red wound. Most of the skin around the main burn had fallen off leaving a raw area.

Peter looked around to make sure that Elizabeth was still asleep upstairs. Assured that he was alone he went under the kitchen sink and retrieved the large bottle of white vinegar that they used for cleaning. Putting his hand over the sink Peter poured some of the vinegar over the burn.

"I can't believe how well that works."

Freed from the incessant pain Peter washed the vinegar off and dressed the wound according to his doctor's instructions. Grabbing his spare set of keys Peter went out to his car and drove towards Neal's. Despite what Neal had said he wasn't going to be surprised if Josephine was there, in fact he decided he'd be more surprised if she wasn't. Getting to Neal's door Peter knocked.

"Peter," Neal greeted warmly "come in. Can I get you some coffee?"

"What's going on?" Peter asked suspiciously. "It's seven am and you've already got your charm turned up to 'high'. You only do that when you have something to tell me that you know I'm not going to like."

"So is that a 'no' on coffee?"

Peter stared icily at Neal. Knowing better than to test his limits with Peter today Neal lead him over to the couch and had him sit down. Peter waited while Neal disappeared into the walk in closet for a minute. Neal came back with folded up t-shirt in his hand. He sat down on the hassock across from Peter.

"This is for you," Neal said as he offered Peter the shirt "please don't get mad until I've had a chance to explain."

"I just love it when you condition surprises." Peter said drily as he took the gift.

The shirt was heavier than Peter expected. He set it down in his lap and opened it. Relief washed over him as he realized that it was his gun. Neal had taken it apart and with his injured hand Peter knew he wasn't going to be able to put it back together again. Peter inspected all of the pieces to make sure everything was there. Lifting the barrel of the gun to his face Peter sniffed at the muzzle.

"Neal...this has recently been fired."

"I told you to let me explain."

"Start explaining."

"Josephine showed up last night." Neal started.

"She came here?"

"She wanted to talk and to return the gun."

"Who did she shoot?" Peter demanded.

"She didn't shoot anyone, the gun just went off. She thought it was empty after taking the bullets out of the clip."

"There was one in the chamber."

"We discovered that."

"We?" Peter repeated. "You were with her when the gun went off."

"Yeah, no one was hurt. It was an accident."

Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he looked at Neal. His usually perfect hair was pulled down awkwardly over his right ear. Peter reached out to move Neal's hair causing Neal to jerk away. Neal knew he'd just revealed himself with the reaction. Neal reached up and tucked his black hair behind his ear revealing the grazing wound.

"Damn it, Neal. Half an inch to the left and she would have killed you."

"I know, but like I said it was an accident."

"Where's the bullet?"

"What?"

"The round? Where is it? I'm responsible for every round in this weapon. If the gun went off in here it must be embedded in the wall or furniture somewhere. I need it back."

"Right...I didn't think of that."

Neal made a half hearted attempt to look around for the bullet from where he was sitting. Peter suddenly had a thought. He held his hand out in a silent demand to be given something. Neal gave him a confused look.

"Hand it over." Peter demanded.

"I don't have the round, Peter. I'm sorry."

"Not the round, the key."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. Josephine was never here, you went to her."

Neal took a breath to protest, however he stopped himself. Getting up he went over to the bookshelf and took down a leather bound book. He opened it and pulled the small electronic anklet key out of the hollowed out pages. Neal brought the key back over to Peter. Taking the key Peter placed it in his breast pocket.

"You can't blame me for trying." Neal said with a hopeful smile.

"I can, and I do."

"I'm sorry, Peter."

"If you just did what was right in the first place you wouldn't spend so much of your time apologizing to me."

"Okay, no more lies. Here is exactly what happened..."

Peter sat and listened quietly as Neal retold the entire story. He was angry that Neal had gone off on his own to an obvious trap, but he kept it to himself. Neal ended his story with Josephine giving him a ride back to June's. When Neal was done Peter sat back and thought about everything for a moment.

"I don't know if Josephine's suspicions are true or not." Neal added. "I have a hard time believing that anyone at White Collar could be behind all of this."

"I can believe it."

"You can?" Neal asked surprised.

"White Collar is a difficult division because there is so much temptation. I've seen it before...a few times. I haven't encountered anyone turning to murder, but if what Josephine says is true about her partner then this person has a lot to lose if caught."

"Any thoughts on who it could be?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "There are eighteen Agents in the New York White Collar division, and twenty-three support staff."

"I didn't even think of the support staff."

"It is more likely to be an Agent since they have better access to evidence."

"Peter, I have a plan to figure out who it is. But it entails running a con on the White Collar division."

"Anything illegal?"

"Just a few white lies."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Neal replied in surprise. "Wow, I thought it was going to be harder to talk you into this."

"Neal, if we have someone in White Collar willing to kill we have to find them. The most dangerous enemies are always those within."

"Sounds like something Mozzie would say."

"When you go out in the field it is important to know that everyone on your team has your back. A single traitor can bring down an entire division and risk everyone's lives." Peter said seriously. "Tell me about this con of yours."

Neal detailed his plan while Peter listened. When he was done Peter once again took a moment to think it over. Unlike Neal who tended to act on impulse Peter needed a little time to work things out in his mind. Both methods had their pluses and minuses.

"I don't know, Neal. Even with perfect timing that could end badly. It's too dangerous. It might be better to get Huges to agree to finance checks on everyone..."

"That will take too long and the instant we start looking our killer will become infinitely more motivated and dangerous. There is no way we could keep full checks a secret. We have to do something now. The longer this drags out the more desperate they are going to be to get rid of you."

"I wish you had insisted on having Josephine come in."

"With everything that has happened would you have come in if you were in her place?"

"No." Peter admitted. "Alright, we'll try it your way. Just for record I don't like it."

"Duly noted. Of course with your hand we'll need at least one more person in on this."

"Diana is the only one with an alibi for the night Harker was poisoned."

"What about Jones?"

"He was watching Harker that night."

"You don't think it's Jones do you?" Neal asked.

"No. But if we're going to put our lives on the line for this I'd like to minimize as much risk as possible."

"Okay, we'll tell Diana and then it's showtime."

"Ugh, I hate making a scene."

"Come on...it'll be fun."

"I know for a fact that you and I have different definitions of that word."

"Mine's better." 


	29. Office Drama

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-six

"Are you ready for this?"

"Not really." Peter admitted.

"Don't worry about, just pretend that you're pissed at me."

"I am pissed at you."

"Then this should be easy."

It was nearing five o'clock and although Peter had come in and gone about his day Neal had come in about ten minutes ago. Anytime Peter had been asked where Neal was he responded that Neal had called in sick. They needed the delay for a few reasons. The main one was making sure Huges was not around. On Peter's insistence they had cleared the operation with Huges, but it was important that he not be there when it happened. The fact that people had given Neal odd looks when he arrived near quitting time looking healthy meant that they had accomplished another one of their objectives.

Neal had gone straight to Peter's office without saying hello to anyone, which was out of character for him. Once in the office he closed the door and pretended to launch into some long explanation. The rest of the office couldn't hear them, but the glass wall of Burke's office made sure they had an audience.

Once they were sure that at least half the office knew they were arguing about something Neal stormed out. Jumping to his feet Peter rounded his desk like an angry lion. He got to his door about the time Neal got to the top of the stairs that lead down into the staff section of the White Collar office.

"Caffrey!" Peter barked. "Don't you dare walk away from me. Get back in here!"

"Forget it, this conversation is over."

"The hell it is!"

If the pair hadn't had the office's attention before, they certainly had it now. Neal turned around and approached Peter with his whole frame set in a confrontational posture. Although already naturally taller than Neal Peter pulled his shoulders back to make himself look even taller to accept any challenge that Neal wanted to bring on. Neal had explained to him that it was the subtle body language that was really going to sell their little spat.

"I came to you because I thought I could trust you," Neal said in a tone that suggested a recent betrayal "because I thought you'd understand."

"You lied to me. You lied to me so that you could go meet with our prime suspect in a murder investigation."

"Josephine isn't a murder." Neal said defensively.

"Says who? I have a mountain of evidence that she killed Richards, and Harker, not to mention attempted to kill both of us."

"It was all a set up. She figured out who her partner is, the one that did all of this."

"Who is it?" Peter demanded.

"She wouldn't tell me..."

"How convenient."

"She wouldn't tell me until I had your word that you wouldn't arrest her."

"She stole my car," Peter hissed "she has my gun! Of course I'm going to arrest her!"

Neal found himself backing a step away from Peter. Either his acting skills were better than he'd led Neal to believe, or he was working through some of his anger and frustration on this case. Neal took this opportunity to glance around the office, pretending to look for help. The entire staff was motionlessly staring at them.

Satisfied that it was working Neal turned to walk away from Peter. As they had planned Peter lashed out and caught Neal's wrist and forced him back around to face him again. It was a move they had practiced a few times since Neal's wrists were still sore from when the cops had restrained him on the bridge. Neal tore his hand out of Peter's grip, although he pretended to try to hold on Peter released him.

"Grab me again like that and you'd better be prepared to cuff me." Neal threatened.

"Don't tempt me. Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"You told me before that you did. I can charge you with aiding a fugitive."

"You have no proof that I know anything." Neal said defiantly.

"If you think you can bring this down to a contest of your word against mine I think you'll find I'll win that battle every time."

"Don't be so sure."

"Neal..."

"I'm not going to let you drag an innocent woman in using a team of F.B.I Agents just itching to use force."

"She's a killer Neal, and she's using you to get to me."

"That's not true." Neal growled darkly.

"How do you know that?"

"I...I just do."

"Damn it, Caffrey...you're sleeping with her, aren't you?"

Neal didn't answer he just turned around once more. This time when Peter went to stop him he pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket. Peter skillfully snagged Neal left wrist with the cuff. However, due to his injured hand Peter needed Neal's cooperation to get his other wrist. Trying to make it look like he was pulling away Neal threw his right shoulder back. With his back turned way from the audience Neal was able to grab the free end of the cuffs and secure it on his own wrist while still making it look like just a practiced moved by Peter.

"Peter, what are you doing?"

"You have until tomorrow morning to give up Josephine's location." Peter growled. "Maybe a night behind bars will remind you of what's important. If you decide to keep silent I'll not only send you back to prison, but I'll have enough charges to keep you there for the next ten to fifteen."

"Peter, you can't ju.."

"Diana," Peter called out "take him down to holding."

"Got it, Boss." Diana replied as she came up the stairs to take Neal into custody.

"You're such a hypocrite, Peter." Neal snarled. "You say you trust me, but after all these years you still treat me like a criminal!"

"That's because you still act like one!"

Neal made an aggressive move toward Peter, but Diana caught him by the upper arm and held him back. The pair glared at each other like junkyard dogs squaring off. Diana pulled on Neal's arm and lead him down the stairs while Peter stayed where he was.

"Get that anklet off him, Josephine stole my keys it will need to be reprogramed." Peter looked over to Jones. "Jones, you still have a key, right?"

"Uh...yeah." Jones replied uncomfortably.

This had originally come as a surprise to Neal. He'd never known that Jones had a key as well. Jones came over and knelt down to remove the anklet. There was a charged silence in the office in the aftermath of the fight. No one seemed to know if they should just pretend to go back to their work or just try to find an excuse to go home.

Jones took the anklet over to Peter. Taking the device Peter went into his office and slammed the door closed. He threw the anklet onto his desk and went over to stare out the window. Diana took Neal through the glass door and over to the elevators. As soon as they were through the door Neal could hear the low chatter as the staff started to react to the scene. Neal glared up at Peter's office spitefully until the elevator arrived.

"That was quite the show." Diana chuckled after the elevator door closed.

"Not too over the top?"

"Maybe a little."

"As long as it works."

"So, what exactly happens next?" Diana asked still a little unclear on the details.

"Right about now Peter will have decided that I can't be trusted to be left alone. He'll ask Jones to take first watch and ask for a volunteer for second watch."

"Seeing as it is Friday the only other person who could possibly be interested in such an assignment should be our dirty Agent."

"Exactly." Neal said as they stepped off the elevator in the basement and made their way towards and empty block of holding cells. "At this point they will be even more desperate to get to Josephine since I hinted that she figured out who her partner is."

"So they take second watch and...what? Threaten you for the information on her whereabouts?"

"The whole point of the big scene is to make it more believable that I'd be willing to strike a deal with someone. That's when we get to the next part of all of this."

"This really is crazy, Caffrey." Diana shook her head. "So much has to go right, and so much could go wrong."

"And our killer is smart. He won't come to me to threaten me, he'll come looking to 'help'. It won't turn violent or illegal until our deal goes South."

"Gotta catch this one's hand in the cookie jar, eh?"

"Pretty much."

"Hopefully they are an Agent, or this isn't going to work. Staff doesn't have access down here."

"In that case I'll just end up spending the night here." Neal shrugged. "One more night behind bars won't kill me."

"I'll be meeting with Peter in an hour to go set up the rest of this. Tell Jones to meet us when his shift is done."

"Will do."

They came up to the security window and Diana identified herself. The guard pressed the buzzer so they could get through the heavy doors. They didn't have much in the way of holding cells in the building. Just a hallway that held six barred cells on each side. It was for when they had a twenty-four hour hold on a suspect before official charges were made. Right now there wasn't anyone else being held here.

Like all of the other Agents Diana had the master key. She unlocked one of the cells halfway down the hall and held the door open for Neal. Stepping inside Neal looked around the all too familiar surroundings. He turned to face Diana as she closed and locked the bars.

"Put your back against the bars and I'll get those cuffs off for you." Diana offered.

"These ones?" Neal asked as he handed the cuffs through the bars to her.

"Show off." Diana chuckled. "You could be out of here in five minutes couldn't you?"

"No, I'm not that good. ...it would probably take ten." 


	30. The best laid plans

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-seven

"So what's really going on?" Jones asked.

"You didn't buy our show?"

"I did right up until I got down here and found that you were still here." Jones replied.

"You know if you all think I can get out of here so easily maybe you should think about doing something about the security around here."

"It's not meant to be a super max, mostly just a place to put suspects on ice to give them some time to think about what life behind bars will be like."

"Making them more willing to cut a deal?"

"Pretty much."

"I bet it works." Neal chuckled.

"Yes it does." Jones agreed. "So, what's the scheme?"

Neal sat cross legged on the floor on one side of the bars and Jones did the same on the opposite side. He detailed to Jones all the information they had so far and the plan to catch the potential killer in their midsts. Jones listened quietly, he had a thermos of coffee that he had brought with him that he sipped at.

"So that's the plan." Neal finished.

"That's crazy, Caffrey."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because it's true. What if this Agent doesn't want to 'make a deal', what if they want to just kill you for knowing where Josephine is?"

"Peter and I have never been the main targets, or they would have tried again by now. Josephine has always been the goal."

"If you say so." Jones said doubtfully. "However, I have to warn you, Agent Walsh volunteered for the second watch."

"Alan Walsh?" Neal asked surprised.

"Yup."

"I did not think of that."

"He's had his eye on you since day one." Jones teased.

"Yeah, I know," Neal sighed "it's been ...awkward."

"Maybe if you didn't dress so well he wouldn't think you were gay."

"It is perfectly acceptable for straight men to care about their appearance these days." Neal said defensively.

"Not in the F.B.I."

"Something makes me really doubt that Walsh is behind all these poisonings. He's a numbers guy, I don't think I've ever seen him go out in the field."

"You know they always say: it's the quiet ones who will get ya." Jones chuckled. "However I think it is far more likely that Walsh wants to spend the night with you in a confined space as opposed to him being a mastermind criminal. He jumped at the chance."

"Can I borrow your phone?" Neal asked defeated.

"Sure."

Jones pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Neal. Hoping to avoid a night with Walsh with no real escape Neal called Peter. Jones continued to sip at the hot coffee with an amused smirk on his face.

"Hey, Jones, is Caffrey behaving himself?" Peter answered.

"Peter, it's Neal."

"Haven't you gotten a new cell phone yet?" Peter demanded.

"Working on it. Listen...about this plan."

"Oh no, you're not getting out of this that easily. Not after the show you made me put on." Peter said firmly. "You can just spend the night with Walsh, I'll have some champagne sent down."

"Peter..."

"Nope, end of discussion. You're just going to have to play this out because I'll be damned if I'm going to admit that we tried to con the office."

"What if it really is Walsh?"

"I will be shocked and amazed."

"Seriously, Peter."

"Fine, Diana and I will stay here just in case. Send Jones our way when Walsh takes over in a few hours, tell him we'll have some pizza ready."

"How come when I go out on stake out with you it's aways deviled ham rather than normal food like pizza?"

"Strictly to annoy you."

"Peter, please, don't make me stay here with Walsh tonight."

"Good bye, Neal."

Neal sighed as Peter hung up on him. Jones chuckled at him. Neal furrowed his brow, Jones was rarely so giggle prone. Before he could ask what was going on with him Jones suddenly started swaying drunkenly.

"Jones?"

"Caffr..."

Jones was interrupted as his eyes rolled back to white. Still sitting on the floor he collapsed backward. The drugged coffee thermos tumbled out of his hand and spilled across the floor.

"Jones!" Neal cried as he jumped to his feet. "Jones? Someone help!"

There was no response from the guard room that was at the other end of the hallway. Neal still had Jones's phone and he quickly called Peter. When the phone rang until it went to voice mail Neal realized that Peter figured he was just calling back to argue some more. Neal put the phone in his jacket pocket and tried to reach through the bars to see if Jones was still alive.

It was difficult to tell what condition Jones was in since he had fallen back and mostly out of reach. Sitting back down Neal brought his right foot up into his lap so that he pry at the back of his shoe. It took some effort, but he managed to peel the rubber sole away from the leather at the heel just enough to get to the pair of lock picks that he kept there. In their first few months of working together Peter regularly checked him for picks, he often thought to look inside Neal's shoes, but it never occurred him to take one of them apart.

Standing back up Neal reached through the bars and started to work the lock. Picking a lock was a trick that took two hands, one for the tension wrench to turn the cylinder and the other to use the actual pick to manipulate the pins. Every lock required varying amounts of pressure on the cylinder to keep the pins from dropping down or from making them too difficult to push up. Closing his eyes Neal concentrated on the feel of this particular lock, it sprung open for him easily. He slipped the picks into his pocket.

"Jones..."

Kneeling over Jones Neal pressed his fingers against his throat in search of a pulse. Jones heart was beating strong, but slowly. Trying to wake him Neal peeled back one of his eyelids, however Jones was out cold. Neal was distracted by his fallen friend and didn't even notice that he had company until he heard the gun clicking.

Looking up Neal was surprised to find Agent Toffle standing over him with her gun drawn. Neal had to admit to himself that he had not been expecting a female Agent to be behind everything, but even with just a moment's thought he realized that women were far more likely to use poison in a homicide than a man. In her lower fifties Toffle had a certain faded beauty to her that spoke of the days when she could turn heads.

"Good evening, Caffrey." Toffle greeted. "I should have suspected that you'd be out of your cage. How did you manage that?"

Not wanting to give away the secret of the picks in his pocket in case he needed them Neal made a not so subtle move to go for Jones's side arm.

"Don't even think about it." Toffle warned.

While Toffle was distracted by Neal reaching his right hand up for the shoulder holster Neal lifted the keys out of Jones's pocket with the other. Going into a submissive surrender Neal raised his hands where Toffel could see them with the keys in hand. Toffle smiled.

"I was able to reach them through the bars." Neal explained.

"Keys, I'm a little disappointed."

"Sorry."

"Make yourself useful and drag Agent Jones in there just in case he wakes up earlier than expected."

"So he is going to wake up?"

"I only kill if I have to. Now hurry up, we're on the clock here."

Neal decided that following orders was his best bet at this point and carefully moved Jones into the cell and closed the door. He turned back to Toffle and waited for instructions. With Peter and Diana still at the set up location there was good chance that this plan could still work despite the fact that things hadn't started out the way he thought they would.

"Pull up your sleeve so I can see your wrist and hold your hand out."

Neal was confused by the odd request. Doing as he was told Neal rolled up his sleeve enough to expose his left wrist. The cuts from the cuffs during the bridge incident were healing, but he still wore purple and yellow bruises around them. Toffle held her aim on Neal's heart with one hand while she reached into her pocket with the other.

Toffle brought out a thick stainless steel bracelet that had a hinge joint to open it. It was about two inches wide and a quarter of an inch thick. It had a red velvet lining on the inside. The bracelet connected with a locking mechanism that had a key hole a little large than what was found on a pair of standard cuffs. It wasn't until she snapped it on around his wrist that Neal realized that the red velvet lining was wet. The bracelet fit uncomfortably tight and pressed the velvet into his skin.

"What is this?" Neal asked nervously.

"Something to tarnish that silver tongue of yours."

"What?"

"My own potion, it soaks right through the skin. Should start to take effect in about ten minutes. I can't give away all my secrets, however I will tell you that the main ingredient is scopolamine."

"Made from Deadly Nightshade."

"That's right. At high doses it is deadly, but do you know the effects at lower concentrations?"

"It can be a powerful 'truth serum'..." 


	31. Ramblings

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-eight: Ramblings

"Has the sky always been purple like that?"

Sitting in the front passenger seat of Toffle car Neal turned his head to the side to get a better look at the bizarre color that seemed to tint everything. Suddenly dizzy he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He tugged at the metal bracelet that was slowly poisoning him. The hallucinations weren't as intense as with the datura, but as time passed Neal could feel himself losing hold of the seriousness of the situation.

Getting out of the Federal building had been easy. Toffel had managed to drug the guard as well, and in the bustle of the six o'clock quitting time exodus they had been able to walk right out the front door. Toffel knew where all the cameras were and had done a superb job of working the angles.

Neal had over exaggerated his reaction to the toxin in the beginning in hopes that she would ask him where Josephine was before he lost his ability to lie. It had worked and Toffle was currently driving them towards the small warehouse where Peter and Diana were waiting. Neal knew that all he had to do was not say anything that would tip Toffle off to the trap she was heading towards.

Unfortunately, keeping quiet was becoming increasingly difficult as the effects of the scopolamine loosened Neal's tongue. He had been wearing the bracelet for about fifteen minutes and it was taking all of his concentration to keep focused on the problem at hand. He silently fought against the oddly euphoric sensation coursing through his blood and the phantom colors that were splashed across the usually monotone city.

"This is what happened to Harker, isn't it? You were the one who took over on watch for Jones. You needed information from him..." Neal started thinking out loud. "You thought that Josephine might have gone to him, you thought he might know where she is. Do you have some connection to the woman in the box?"

"I didn't even know about the dead woman." Toffle answered to keep Neal talking.

"Why didn't he tell us? Why didn't he say anything about being drugged? I don't understand, he was so talkative...wait, he confessed so easily because he still had it in his system. But why not tell us about you?"

"The Nightshade has the added benefit of causing short term memory loss."

"Oh." Neal nodded vacantly. "So I'm not going to remember any of this...that's interesting. Why did you kill Harker? What threat was he to you?"

"I didn't kill Harker, you did."

"I did? I don't remember that." Neal muttered drunkenly. "Why would I do that?"

"I only gave Harker enough Nightshade to get him talking. Increased heart rate is another effect of the Nightshade, part of what makes it so deadly. When you and Burke interrogated him about the dead woman you sent his stress heart right over the edge. His blood is on your hands."

"No it isn't." Neal said as he lifted up his hands and inspected them. "They look clean to me, no blood. Speaking of blood...why kill Summers and Richards?"

"I didn't kill them, they killed themselves."

"Yeah, but, you poisoned them...drove them crazy."

"Just gave them an extra push to pay out a little faster. I'm not getting any younger."

Neal nodded as if that made perfect sense. Feeling increasingly light headed he brought his hands up and stared at his palms with sudden fascination.

"I wonder if the lines in our palms really say anything about our personalities, future, past...Josephine seemed to know an awful lot about Peter just by looking at his hands. Of course it could just be that she's good at reading people in general. I bet I could make a good fortune teller if I tried, it's just another kind of con. People want to believe in certain things, which makes it eas..."

"Tell me more about Burke." Toffel said to redirect Neal's rambling. They were about five minutes from arriving at their destination, but Toffel slowed her speed to give them a little more time.

"Peter?" Neal smiled. "In retrospect getting caught by him was one of the best things that ever happened to me. You know, if Kate really loved me, why was she hiding from me when I came back to New York? Why was she stealing from me while I was in prison...why wouldn't she just accept my help once I was back out? I know we had something in the beginning, but I wonder sometimes if something changed while I was in Europe. I taught her the art of the con, maybe I taught her too well..."

"I don't care about Kate." Toffle said as she pulled to a stop at a red light. "Tell me more about Peter. I've watched you two closely over the years. I've seen you two argue before, but this time seemed a little different. How did Josephine come between you and Peter? Is the sex really that good?"

"Sex?" Neal repeated confused. "I'm not sleeping with Peter."

"Not Peter, you idiot, I was talking about Josephine."

"I haven't touched her either. Well, maybe I've touched her, but despite the offers I haven't had sex with her. It's not that I don't find her attractive, I do, but I like there to be at least a little romance between me and my partners. I don't sleep around as much as people think I do."

"So you risked whatever it is you have with Burke on just the word of a stranger?"

"No, I'd never do that." Neal shook his head, making the dizziness worse. "Peter's trust means everything to me."

"Really?"

"Really. His trust, our partnership," Neal continued to babble "it's the most valuable thing I have in this world, it's priceless. That's what really important in life, having at least one person who has your back no matter what. It's not an easy thing to find, I'm lucky in that respect. Without Pet..."

"Wait," Toffle interrupted "you still trust Burke?"

"With my life."

"Damn it." Toffle turned off on a side street and slammed on the brakes.

"Who taught you how to drive?" Neal complained.

"This whole thing is a set up, isn't it? That argument was just a con to draw me out."

Instead of answering Neal tugged on his locked bracelet again. Something was telling him that he needed to be quiet. He wasn't even sure what he had been saying, he couldn't quite remember. He looked out the side window at a black cat that was slinking along the sidewalk. The cat turned to look at him and revealed a set of bright emerald eyes. Neal watched fascinated as the feline suddenly grew raven black wings and flew away.

"That was weird." Neal muttered.

"Answer me, Caffrey."

"I'm sorry...what was the question again?"

"Who is at the address you gave me?"

"Peter, Diana, and Jones...no, wait, probably not Jones." Neal corrected as he became lost in thought again. "Jones is a good man, I hope he's alright. He's going to be okay, isn't he? He wasn't looking so good when we left. I would never forgi..."

"Focus, Caffrey." Toffle barked. "Where's Josephine?"

"I don't know." Neal answered honestly.

"If you don't know where she is, how did you figure out she has a partner in the F.B.I?"

"She told me." Neal tried biting his tongue, but he couldn't keep himself from talking. "She took me to her place, but I was blindfolded...she wouldn't trust me. I don't know where she is. I can't help you."

"Listen to me very carefully." Toffle said slowly. "You have forty-five minutes, an hour tops, to get that bracelet off before the dosage goes from 'recreational' to 'lethal'. You want to live, you'll tell me how to find Josephine."

"You'll just kill us both. I don't see how that helps anyone."

"You underestimate me, Caffrey." Toffle said seriously. "If I can take care of my problem with Josephine in the next half hour, I'll take off that bracelet, take you back to your cell at the F.B.I, and then I can just come into work like normal on Monday. It will just look like you and Jones fell asleep. Neither of you will remember any of this and everything can go back to the way it was."

"Why are you doing all of this? Why align yourself with Josephine to begin with?"

"Money of course, I will retire in two years a very rich woman and no one will think to hunt me down, but if I just quit or disappear I'll be under tight scrutiny."

"Smart." Neal admitted. "I never had the patients to wait on spending money. I have literally burned through millions of dollars, I don't have anything to show for it, but it was a lot of fun."

"Neal," Toffle leaned in close and spoke softly "Josephine is in danger, we need to find her. How can we find her?"

Neal furrowed his brow at the question. His thoughts were starting to stumble over one another. He knew that Josephine was in danger, but he was having trouble remembering why. Toffle put her hand over the toxic bracelet and pressed the wet velvet harder against his skin. Neal's stomach turned with a wave of nausea.

"Neal, I want to help you, you're not feeling well."

"No...I'm not."

"I'm a Federal Agent, just like Peter. You can trust me, right?"

"That makes sense." Neal agreed.

"How can we find Josephine?"

"My phone...she has my phone, it has GPS..."

"I tried that already right after I heard she stole it, but she turned it off."

"When she was getting supplies to help my ear I saw it on the end table, I turned it on and hid it in the couch cushions so I could find her later if I had to."

"You are a clever one."

"Thanks...what were we talking about?" Neal asked as he reached out and started playing with the radio buttons.

"We weren't talking about anything important." Toffle assured. "Just put your hands in your pockets and be quiet."

Neal pulled his hands away from the radio and put them in his jacket pockets as he was told. Toffle pulled the car off the side street and started driving again as she got on the phone and called in a favor to get Neal's phone tracked. Neal wondered why she needed the phone tracked when he had it right in his pocket.

Feeling the phone in his pocket sparked something in is drug addled thoughts. Suddenly fearful of Toffle he gripped Jones's phone. He struggled to remember why she was a threat for a moment before giving up and just deciding to go with his instincts on it. The rush of adrenaline gave him enough clarity to realize something wasn't right. Neal didn't dare take the phone out of his pocket so he slid it open and hit the redial. He searched for the button that controlled the volume and turned it all the way down to mute.

"What are you doing?" Toffle asked suddenly.

"You told me to put my hands in my pockets and be quiet...so, I'm probably doing that."

Toffle eyed Neal suspiciously. The person on the other end of her call gave her the information she wanted and she hung up. Neal's heart had already been working hard, but now that he was close to getting caught it was pounding painfully against his ribs.

"Let me see your hands. If you were wearing a wire I have a feeling that Burke would have descended upon us a while ago."

Neal went to take his hands out of his pockets, but ended up pitching forward and dry heaving noisily. He hadn't planed on suddenly being sick, but he used the distraction to pull the phone out of his pocket and dropped it in the side compartment on the bottom of the door. Neal spat bile on the car floor as he regained some control of his stomach.

Toffle waited until Neal was done before reaching over and patting down his pockets for a cell phone. She didn't seem to notice the small lock picks or if she did she didn't care. Neal realized that he had the perfect chance to grab her and knock her out. However, even if he knew how to hit someone to knock them out Neal was finding that his muscles were becoming less and less interested in his commands.

"Nausea is the first sign of overdose. I'd say you only have about twenty minutes left before you're beyond help. Lucky for your Josephine is only about ten minutes away, so you might just live through this."

"Something tells me that's never been part of the plan..."

"You have my word, Caffrey, once Josephine is dealt with I'll let you go."

"I don't want to trade her life for mine."

"You don't have a choice."


	32. Window Pains

Note from the Phoenix: Long chapter is long! One more left after this. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It was meant to be a short story...but it got out of hand.

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Twenty-nine: Window Pains

"Something wrong, Peter?"

"I don't know." Peter sighed in response.

"Having second thoughts about leaving Caffrey to the wolves?" Diana chuckled.

"Yeah."

"It serves him right. You didn't honestly think that Josephine was working with one of us, did you?"

"I don't know how anyone else could have had the information, or the timing without being in the office."

"So you think it's a staff member?"

"I guess." Peter replied doubtfully. "In any case it looks like Neal's plan didn't work and we're back at square one. I hate not being able to trust the people I work with."

"It does make a dangerous job more difficult."

"I think we should call this. No sense in staking this place out if no one is coming."

"Are you going to leave Caffrey in the basement?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "Not because I feel sorry for him, but because Jones deserves to go home if we are."

"Walsh is going to be very disappointed." Diana smiled.

Peter nodded in agreement and pulled out his cell phone to call Jones. He erased the missed call, he had assumed that it was just Neal calling back to plead his case again. Peter was just about to hit the redial when he paused.

"Boss?" Diana asked.

"I have to take you back to the office to get your car anyway. I'll let Neal sweat it out till then."

"You're cruel."

"I really hated having to yell at him in front of the whole office."

"I don't doubt that."

Peter and Diana made their way out of the hiding place in the abandoned warehouse. As they were walking back to the car Peter's cell phone started ringing. Pulling out the phone Peter looked at the caller ID and saw 'Jones'.

"I swear if this is Neal, I'm sending him back to prison." Peter muttered as he answered the phone. "Hello? ...Hello?"

Diana stopped walking as Peter's expression turned to one of concern. Peter stopped as well and tried to understand the noise on the other end of the line.

"There's two people talking," Peter explained to Diana "but it's muffled. I can't understand them."

"Jones and Caffrey?"

"I can't tell...one sounds like a woma..."

Peter stopped cold when he heard the distinct sound of someone being physically sick.

"Diana, call security, get someone down to holding. I want to know what's going on down there."

Diana already had her phone out and called the security office. Peter continued to try and discern the conversation on the other end of the line. It wasn't until he heard a few bars of one of Neal's favorite songs in a drunken tone that Peter figured out what had happened. Peter had encountered Neal sedated the time he'd been caught breaking into a doctor's office and knew his tendency to sing when drugged.

"Boss, Caffrey's gone." Diana informed as she hung up her phone. "Jones was in the cell fast asleep, the night watch was sleeping as well. Neither remember what happened."

"Damn it, I didn't expect them to be brazen enough to try something with Jones on watch."

"What do we do?"

"Neal has Jones's cell phone, track it."

Diana nodded and started dialing again as they picked up the pace back to Peter's car. Getting into the car Peter continued to listen in on the phone. Diana got him a location on the phone and informed him that it was moving. Peter had Diana stay on the line with the office for live updates on the GPS information while he sped towards it. Every so often Neal would start singing again, causing the other person to yell at him. They were still ten minutes behind the other vehicle when Peter heard a car door open and close followed by silence.

"The phone stopped moving." Diana informed. "There's no exact address, they must be in the street."

"They got out of the car, but he didn't take the phone with him." Peter said as he hung up. "I'm guessing they reached Josephine's."

"Why would Caffrey lead them there? Why not bring them to us?"

"He's drugged out of his mind."

"How can you tell?"

"He's singing."

If the situation wasn't so serious Diana would have found it amusing. As it was she simply gave Peter turn by turn direction towards the phone's location. As they drove into a broken down and mostly condemned area near the warehouse district Peter was more convinced than ever that they were getting close to Josephine. She seemed to be attracted to the few pockets of low population in New York.

"The phone is around this corner." Diana pointed up to the left.

"We should walk the rest of the way."

Peter pulled up next to the sidewalk and threw the car into park. Diana got out and drew her weapon. Trying to do the same Peter awkwardly reached up to his shoulder harness with his left hand. He tried to find a comfortable hold on it with his uninjured hand, but it didn't feel right.

"Can you fire that left handed?" Diana asked.

"Fire: yes. Aim: not really."

Diana accepted that answer and took point as they rounded the corner. They spotted the car parked alongside the narrow cross street. It was a Federal issued car which confirmed Neal's theory that it was an Agent that they were dealing with. The car was parked between the entrance way of two separate buildings.

"This is a problem." Peter said quietly. "An Agent is going to know all our tactics."

"And we don't know which building they went into."

"Let's assume they parked on the same side as they went in." Peter said as he put in his radio ear piece. "I'll take the building closest, you take the other."

"Are you sure you want to split up?"

"I don't think we have much time before this turns violent, they've shown no hesitation to kill in the past."

"But your hand..."

"I'll be fine, go."

Diana didn't waste time by arguing any further. They stayed in the shadows as best they could until they came to the first door. Diana reached out and turned the door knob for Peter since he was still holding his weapon in his one good hand. Peter nodded his thanks and peered inside before slipping in. Diana left to search the other building.

Peter found himself in a rundown building that had once been business offices. There was graffiti on the walls and broken beer bottles on the ground. He heard the sounds of people laughing and could see the flicker of fire light down the long hallway. Slinking down the hall he pressed his back against the moldy wall outside the open doorway.

Glancing around the door he quickly counted six teenagers. They were drinking and having a good time around a fire pit in a room that consisted of several offices with the walls knocked out. The scent of marijuana was heavy in the air. Peter took another look to make sure no one was armed. Determining that the kids weren't dangerous he stepped into the room.

"Hey, man, this is a private party." One of the teens giggles when he caught sight of Peter.

"Does anyone live on the second floor?" Peter demanded.

"Probably."

"Is there a back exit?"

"Yeah." One of the others nodded.

"Good." Peter tucked his gun in his back pocket for a moment to get out his money clip. "Here's some money for a cab, leave quietly, and go home...now."

"You're crazy." A particularly high girl snickered.

"Or I could just arrest you." Peter handed the money off to the apparent leader and flashed his badge at them. "Come here again, and I will."

The kids seemed to instantly sober at the sight of the Federal ID. Scrambling to their feet they scurried towards a door in the back of the open room. Peter didn't have time to make sure they got a cab, but at least they would be out of the way if a fire fight broke out. He retrieved his weapon from his waistband and flicked the safety off. After a quick search of the main floor Peter headed into the stairwell.

The second floor had once been a small factory of some description. It was one open room with rows of broken down and dusty sewing equipment. It didn't take more than a glance to see that no had been up here in a long time. Peter was just about to leave when motion caught the corner of his eye.

One of the far windows was open and through it Peter could see the light from the building across the street. Going over to the window Peter looked across the narrow street at the emptied out retail building. Directly across from him was a large window that was mostly obscured by the antique couch that had been pushed up against it. Inside the studio type makeshift apartment Peter could see the cluttered decor that seemed to always surround Josephine.

Peter lifted his wrist to call Diana over the radio when Neal backed into view of the window. Peter froze as he saw Agent Toffle step up to him with her weapon drawn. Neal had his back to the window with his hands raised in peaceful manner. Toffle was angry and although Peter couldn't understand her he could hear her yelling in a tone that suggested a demand.

Toffle was clearly agitated. She was standing at a slight angle to the window so Peter could see past Neal to see her right side. She was holding her gun as the F.B.I had trained her, with her finger resting against the body of the weapon just above the trigger. The hold kept the weapon from accidentally going off, but kept her in a position to fire in the blink of an eye if need be. Peter took a step back to rushed back down stairs when he noticed a subtle change in Toffle's stance.

It was an adjustment Peter knew well, he had taught it to her. Toffle had asked him for help on the firing range one day a few years back to help her increase her accuracy. He quickly pointed out that she didn't brace herself properly. The change in her posture told him that she was seconds away from firing. At near point blank range she had no chance of missing her target.

Without time to second guess his decision Peter lifted his weapon in his untrained left hand, resting it on his raised right for some secondary support. At twenty feet, through a pane of glass, and past a hostage it would have been a difficult shot even with his usual grip. Locking his eyes on the small target just to the side of Neal's shoulder Peter fired.

The recoil of the gun transferred into his right hand that had been supporting his aim. A flash of pain distracted Peter for a split second. In that blink of an eye the scene through the window had changed dramatically. Both Toffle and Neal had gone down.

"Neal!"

"Boss?" Diana's tense voice came over Peter's ear piece. "What happened? I heard gunfire."

"I think I just shot Neal."

"What?"

"He's in the building across the street from me to the South." Peter explained as he ran back to the stairwell. "Get paramedics."

"I'm on it."

"Agent Toffle is there as well, she's down, but may still be dangerous."

Diana acknowledged that she was calling paramedics and was on her way down to provide back up. Peter didn't have time to wait for her. He raced down the stairs, back out into the street, and up the flight leading to Josephine's. He didn't slow down until he got to the door. The door had been left slightly open and Peter was able to get a view before rushing in.

Toffle was on her back on the floor holding her right arm tightly. A pool of blood was spreading out from under her. A few feet away Neal had hit the floor was well. Josephine was kneeling over him with her hand on his chest and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Peter's training forced him to go to Toffle first and kick her gun out of her reach. Going over to Neal he dropped down on his knees next to him and put his hand over Josephine's. She was pressing against a bloodstained area on Neal's shirt to the right of his heart. Neal was dripping in sweat and struggling to keep his eye open.

"Neal..." Josephine whimpered.

"Josephine," Peter said firmly "go help Toffle. I'll take care of Neal."

Josephine hesitated, but she pulled her hand out from under Peter's. Afraid to look at the wound Peter just pressed down hard on the hot blood. Neal looked up at him and smiled brightly.

"Peter," Neal greeted warmly "I knew you had my back."

"Don't talk, just hold on."

"Hold on to what?" Neal asked as he tried to sit up.

"Neal, keep still. You've been shot."

"Shot?" Neal asked confused. "I don't feel shot..."

"I shot you, I'm sorry. I...I didn't know what else to do, Toffle..."

"Toffle, don't trust her, there's something not right about her. I can't remember what it is... Why would you shoot me? I thought we were friends."

"We are." Peter assured. "Just hold still, help is on the way."

"I remember being shot yesterday, it really hurt." Neal continued in a casual tone. "This doesn't hurt...I just can't keep the room from spinning...why is the room spinning? It's kinda fun, but very distracting."

Neal closed his eyes and smiled as he chuckled. Peter took a breath to remind Neal to save his energy when he noticed something odd. The bloodstain under his hand wasn't getting any larger. With a chest wound by this time Neal should at least have blood on his teeth, but they were clean. Peter gingerly lifted his hand to look under it, he paused when he didn't see a hole in Neal's shirt. Taking his hand away completely Peter looked at the pattern of blood and realized that it was blowback from the hit Toffle had taken.

"Neal, what the hell are you doing on the floor if you're not shot?" Peter demanded in a mixture of anger and relief.

"I fell...I fell aaaall the way down to the floor. Luckily I stopped there."

"Come on, get up."

"So...I'm not shot?"

"No."

"But you thought I was," Neal teased "you were worried about me."

"Neal..." Peter suddenly noticed the steel bracelet. "What is that?"

"Oh right, I need to get that off." Neal said calmly as he tried to slip it over his hand unsuccessfully.

"What is it?"

"Nightshade." Neal replied with a shrug.

"Peter," Josephine said with alarm from her place by Toffle's side "if that is truly Nightshade it needs to come off now! He's sweating, he's going to go into toxic shock."

"Toffle," Peter snarled "how do I get this off?"

"She passed out." Josephine replied as she pressed her hand harder against the wound. "I'll look for a key, you go into the kitchen, in the cupboard you'll find a red box with some dry leaves. Get the oval shaped ones with single vein in them."

Realizing that there was no time for explanation Peter jumped up and rushed into the kitchen. Josephine had a host of objects that one did not normally find in a kitchen, including what Peter could swear was a dried bat. He found the box and picked out the leaves that she had described. He brought the leaves to Josephine.

"What do I do with these?"

"Make Neal chew on them, it is Jaborandi a Nightshade antidote. It will buy some time."

Peter brought the leaves over to Neal who was still laying on the floor. Too out of it to follow directions Peter had to pry his jaw open. Fighting the bitter taste Neal tried to spit the leaves out.

"Chew on these damn things or I will shoot you." Peter threatened.

Neal seemed to take the threat seriously and chewed on the dried leaves. Peter scrambled back over to Toffle and started searching through her pockets for a key. Josephine had found her car keys, but there was nothing on their small enough to fit the lock on the bracelet. Peter started going through the pockets again, hoping that Josephine simply missed the key the first time.

"Peter," Neal called "I need your help."

Looking over his shoulder Peter saw that Neal had forced himself into a seated position with his back up against the couch. He had a pair of lock pick tools, but he was having trouble figuring out how to use them with only one hand. With the cuff on his left hand with the lock on top he couldn't use that hand. Giving up on the key Peter came and sat down in front of Neal.

"Neal, I'm not very good at this."

"I have faith in you." Neal smiled, sounding clearer than before. "You had an excellent teacher."

Neal handed the lock picks over to Peter and reminded him of the direness of the situation by turning to the side and dry heaving violently. Peter took Neal's wrist and put it on his lap so that he could work at the lock. It only took a few tries for him to realize that he didn't have the dexterity in his injured hand that was needed to tease the lock open.

"Is it hot in here?" Neal complained as he pulled on his tie.

"Neal, I can't do this..."

"Can't do what?"

"Neal, focus!" Peter said urgently. "We have to get this lock open."

"Here, give me the pick," Neal panted "you take the tension wrench."

"You think we can pick together?"

"Keep tension on the cylinder, I'll rake the pins."

Peter gave Neal the pick and placed the tension wrench into the lock. He remembered the first task was to figure out which direction the cylinder turned. He had to turn the lock the tiny amount that it would move a few times back and forth before deciding that the lock turned clockwise. He held the wrench in place while Neal tried to focus on getting the pick into the small key hole.

"It looks like there are about six keyholes." Neal complained.

"Here." Peter tapped the pick into the key hole for Neal.

"Thanks." With the pick in place Neal closed his eyes to concentrate on the pins. "Too much tension, Peter, relax."

Peter tried to force himself to relax.

"Stop, right there." Neal said as he clicked the first pin. "A little more on the next one."

"How's this?" Peter added tension.

"Too much again, back off slowly...stop."

Peter heard the second tiny pin click into place. Neal stopped and ground his teeth together with a low growl of pain. He had spit out the leaves and with the bracelet still on more Nightshade just kept soaking through his skin.

"Neal?"

"My chest hurts, I can hear my heart...it's very distracting."

"Come on, we're almost there."

"Almost where?" Neal muttered.

"You're picking a lock, pay attention."

"Just shoot it open."

"Not an option, come on, next pin."

"Fine." Neal sighed wearily.

Peter had managed to keep the first two pins set by keeping the pressure on the cylinder. Neal worked the pick into the next pin and found it more difficult than the others. He leaned his head back as sweat dripped out of his hair and off his skin. Peter didn't dare move, afraid he'd let he pins drop.

"Neal, talk to me, what do you need for this next pin?"

"I...I don't know...try something, anything."

Peter added tension to the cylinder, but even he could feel that was the wrong move. The pin required less. Peter just wasn't sure how lightly he could hold the cylinder without causing the other pins to fall. Taking his lead from Neal Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Picking a lock was all about feel, more art than science. Peter slowly relaxed the pressure on the cylinder until he heard a faint click.

"Got it," Neal smiled "there are only three, turn it."

Peter held his breath as he turned the lock. The lock gave easily and the bracelet popped open. Peter pulled it off, being careful not to touch the velvet lining. Neal's skin had turned bright red where the Nightshade had been soaking into his wrist. Josephine was still holding onto Toffle to keep her from bleeding out. In the distance Peter could hear the ambulance wailing its way closer. It felt like they had been waiting for it for an hour, but it had barely been five minutes.

"Wash his wrist in cold water with some dish soap." Josephine advised. "It needs to be cold."

"Right."

"If there are any more Jaborandi leaves he should have them."

Slipping under Neal's arm Peter hauled Neal to his feet and helped him over to the kitchen sink. Running the cold water he pulled Neal's wrist under the spray and washed his wrist in the blue dish soap. When Peter was done Neal cupped his hands in the water and splashed some on his face, dragging the rest though his hair. Peter flicked through the box of leaves until he found two more of the Jaborandi. This time Neal took them from him and chewed on them willingly.

Diana arrived with paramedics, she had been delayed by the panic from the large number of squatters in the building she had been searching that had heard the gun shot. News that there was an F.B.I Agent in the building had quickly spread and had caused a mass exodus.

Paramedics descended upon Toffle and quickly got her down to the ambulance. They tried to convince Neal to come with them, but he insisted that he wasn't going anywhere. Peter lead Neal over to the couch and had him sit down. Josephine walked up to him and leaned down to kiss his forehead. She turned to Peter who was standing by her and threw her arms around him in a grateful embrace before allowing Diana to lead her away.

"What's going to happen to Josephine?" Neal asked.

"Considering she just helped us find a traitor in the F.B.I, we can probably work out some sort of deal if she's willing to turn state's evidence." Peter assured. "How are you feeling?"

"Better already...although, still hallucinating...I think." Neal looked up critically at Peter. "You look like you have wings."

"Wings?"

"Could just be a guardian angel thing."


	33. Lines of Fate

Note from the Phoenix: I hope you have all enjoying this story as much as I have! Thank you all for pushing me to write better! And, yes, I have thoughts for another White Collar after this one. So look for White Collar: The Eye of Sita.

White Collar: Knock on Wood

Chapter Thirty

Neal woke in his own bed, slightly disoriented but not feeling as sick as he thought he should. He had scattered memories from the previous night that were all jumbled together. It was the itching around his wrist that reminded him of the Nightshade poisoning. His chest felt heavy and warm and he worried that it was a secondary effect from the Nightshade.

Slowly opening his eyes he found that once again it was Sparkles who was causing the odd feeling on his chest. Curled up in a tight ball of midnight fur the cat opened one of her emerald eyes. Neal tensed, waiting for the cat to hiss at him and run away. Sparkles just closed her eyes again and began to purr. Neal hesitantly reached up and scratched behind her ears. Sparkles pressed her head against his hand and purred louder.

"So we're friends now?"

Sparkles got up and stretched out her back before jumping down off the bed and walking off with her tail held high. The finicky feline was not about to admit that she enjoyed Neal's company too much. Rolling onto his side Neal noticed Peter sleeping on his couch. Curled up on his side Peter slept fitfully. Neal had always assumed that Peter would be a peaceful sleeper, but he jerked and twitched in the throws of some unknown dream. Neal waited until Peter naturally began to wake before disturbing him.

"Peter," Neal called in a mocking tone "I'm watching you sleep."

"Don't be creepy, Neal." Peter growled as he rolled over to put his back to Neal and tried to go back to sleep.

"Seriously, Peter, why are you sleeping on my couch?"

"Someone had to keep an eye on you."

"And you're doing an amazing job of that." Neal pointed out.

"I'm a light sleeper, I would have noticed if you'd gotten up."

Neal chuckled as he sat up. He knew the real answer was that Peter had tried to keep watch over him all night, but as the adrenaline of the night wore off he'd fallen asleep. Desperately thirsty Neal walked over to the kitchen and filled a glass from the tap. He wanted to just down the whole glass, but he sipped at it carefully in fear of upsetting his delicate stomach.

"Coffee?" Neal asked.

"Please." Peter groaned.

Hunting down the supplies Neal started some coffee. Peter didn't manage to sit up until the acrid scent of coffee filled the air. Neal decided against any coffee himself and just brought Peter over a mug. Neal sat down on the hassock across from Peter and handed him the coffee.

"Thanks." Peter said. "So...how much do you remember about last night?"

"Bits and pieces. Toffle thought that Josephine still had your gun and was demanding it."

"Why?"

"She was going to set Josephine and I up as a murder/suicide." Neal explained. "I'm unclear if I was going to be the murder or the suicide...I didn't think to ask."

"I wouldn't have believe either scenario."

"It would have been perfect though. You wouldn't have had any leads on Toffle if I hadn't called you. She would have just gone back to work on Monday and been shocked when I turned up dead."

"She's a dangerous one. She's in the hospital, but she's already fully laywered up. Without Josephine's testimony we'd be lucky to get her for kidnapping."

"I was too drugged to be a sound witness?"

"Exactly. Her lawyers would be able to twist anything you said around."

"I hate lawyers."

"Amen." Peter chuckled. "Remember anything else?"

"You...you thought I was shot." Neal said as he pieced the memory together. "You thought you had shot me. What made you think that?"

"I was in the building across the street when I saw her about to fire on you. I figured if I didn't take the shot you'd be dead either way."

"You hit Toffle from across the street through a pane of glass?" Neal asked impressed.

"Left handed."

"Nice. Remind me to never give you a reason to put me in your sights." Neal said seriously. "I can't believe I lead Toffle straight to Josephine. I could have gotten us all killed."

"You weren't yourself, in fact you were very chatty."

"I was?" Neal asked nervously.

"Nightshade is an impressive truth serum, and it lasted until about three am."

"That's not good. What did I say?"

"You sang like a canary...quite literally at times." Peter teased. "How can one man, particularly one of your age, be involved in so much crime?"

"Natural talent?" Neal offered.

"Clearly. I couldn't believe the stories about Georgia."

"Georgia as in USA, or Georgia as in Eurasia?" Neal asked nervously.

"Both stories were equally shocking."

True fear filled Neal's eyes. He had several reasons for not wanting Peter to know the extent of his past crimes. Neal's greatest fear was that Peter would realize that he shouldn't be trusted. More than once Neal had turned on his partners in crime when things went wrong or too violent. Neal wasn't sure that he could explain to Peter that their partnership was different and that he wouldn't cut and run when things went wrong the way he had done to so many others.

"Neal?"

"I'm going to wear this anklet for the rest of my life." Neal sighed miserably.

"No, don't worry about it." Peter assured. "Only the CIA accepts confession given under coercion, the F.B.I has more integrity than that. Your secrets are safe with me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Besides I can't verify anything you said. I'm sure most of it was true, but you also said that your real name is 'Charles Lytton'."

"Isn't that the jewel thief from the Pink Panther movies?" Neal asked.

"Yup, and that you had once stolen the Hope Diamond."

"Maybe I did in a previous life. The last time it was stolen was 1775 from King Louis XVI."

"Statue of Limitations is probably up on that one." Peter pointed out.

Neal tried to smile, but his heart was still heavy. Sparkles came up and rubbed against Neal's leg and purred loudly. Neal absent mindly reach down and pet the cat. Peter sneezed, but didn't say anything about the animal. Being reminded of the past Neal's thoughts had drifted back to the Raphael painting and the implication behind it. It wasn't the fact that Kate had taken it that hurt, it was the fact that she would sell the personally meaningful piece for a fraction of its value that gave him the sting of betrayal.

"Everything alright, Neal?" Peter asked. "You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The 'I'm thinking about Kate' look."

"I didn't realize I had a 'look' for that."

"Everyone has a look for everything, you're just harder to read than most."

"I see, and am I an open book to you?"

"Far from it." Peter smiled sadly. "But I think I've translated a few pages."

"Did I talk about the Raphael last night?"

"You did, but nothing that surprised me."

"Really?"

"Neal, I knew the instant it was gone that you took it, I just could never prove it. The heist didn't literally have your fingerprints on it, but your signature was all over it."

"I had to make it flashy."

"And you did. I have to admit I was impressed. However, it was also the first step to figuring out that every move you made was for Kate, and ultimately lead to your capture."

"You would have caught me eventually anyway, I was becoming increasingly reckless in my attempts to impress Kate."

"Why was she hiding from you?"

"I've asked myself that same question a thousand times. I don't have an answer."

"Well the only important part about the past is that you loved her, and here in the present you didn't steal the painting when you had every opportunity to."

"Are you saying there is hope for me yet?" Neal asked with a slight grin.

"There's always been hope for you."

Neal managed a more genuine smile. Peter drank more of the coffee that Neal had made for him, clearly enjoying it more than the swill that they served at the office. Neal looked out the windows at the bright sunny day that was waiting for them outside.

"Peter, what happened to Josephine?"

"She's currently at a safe house waiting to testify at Toffle's trial."

"What will happen to her after that?"

"She had a lot more resources than we thought, somehow all of it clean. She was able to get some very expensive lawyers and got herself a really good deal."

"Better than the one I got?" Neal asked as he glanced down at his anklet.

"Far better."

"I need to stop using Mozzie for my legal advice."

"Now there's a thought."

"I don't suppose I could see her?" Neal asked.

"She's already requested to see you. I can take you over there."

"Thank you."

Neal stood up and went over to the walk in closet. After a quick shower he changed into one of his favorite three piece suits and secured a deep blue tie with golden scroll work around his neck. Picking up his black fedora he flipped it on and pulled it over his eyes to tilt it forward. When he came back out into the main room Peter looked him over and shook his head sadly.

"It's Saturday, Neal. We're not going into the office."

"I know."

"You must be feeling better."

Neal smiled brightly and picked up Peter's car keys from the table. Slowly getting to his feet Peter snatched the keys away from Neal before putting on his sports jacket from the previous night. On the way to the safe house Peter tried to make casual conversation about the crimes Neal had told him about the night before.

"Nice try, Peter, but I'm not confirming or denying any of that."

"Hey, I'm just making conversation."

"Well, don't."

Peter narrowed his eyes in irritation at Neal's demand, however they had just arrived at the hotel that house the 'safe house' and there was no time left for argument. Josephine jumped up from the couch where she had been sitting when she spotted Neal and Peter. She accosted them both with an enthusiastic embrace.

"You are looking well, Neal." Josephine said as she looked him over. "You have an impressive resistance to Nightshade."

"Not impressive enough. I am sorry that I lead Toffle to you."

"You don't remember protecting me from her, do you?"

"Not really."

"You were very brave." Josephine said proudly.

"That sounds like me." Neal chuckled.

"Oh brother." Peter grumbled.

"Peter, can I talk to Josephine alone for a minute?"

"Just remember this is a safe house, not the Playboy mansion."

"Trust me, the differences are obvious." Neal assured.

Peter gave Neal one more meaningful warning glance before stepping out into the hall with the Agent on guard. Josephine took Neal's hands in her own and guided him over to the couch to sit down.

"I can't thank you enough for believing me, Neal." Josephine said quietly. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused."

"It's okay. I wanted to ask you a question."

"Give me your palm."

"What?"

"There is no question that I can not find the answer to in the lines of your life."

"You don't even know the question."

"I think I do."

Neal humored Josephine and held out his hand. Josephine took it gently and studied it intently. She traced a few of the lines with her fingertip and smiled. Neal looked at his own palm wondering what it was she was seeing in the fine lines of his hand. He couldn't help the way his heart started racing in anxiety. Josephine took a closer look at the center of his palm.

"This is rare. You have a duel Line of Fate."

"Like the Hanged Man," Neal smiled sadly "a struggle between two worlds?"

"Precisely. There is a point where your Fate is a merged line, but two distinct creases veer from one another here..." Josephine brushed Neal's palm sending a chill down his spine. "Two clear paths to chose from. One promises everything your heart desires, however it ends senselessly, a life without purpose with a violent end. The other path looks treacherous and unappealing at first, it does not offer what you want. Instead it gives you what you need, and it stretches out in a full life of meaning and reward."

"How will I know how to chose the right one when the time comes?"

Josephine's face lit up in a warm smile. She closed Neal's hand and held it in her own. Leaning forward she gently kissed his cheek. Neal found himself paralyzed by her once more as she brought her lips near his ear. Her warm breath brushed against his skin and seemed to slow his heart to a peaceful rhythm.

"Neal...you've already chosen." 


End file.
